Picking up the Pieces
by daccu65
Summary: Takes place after Evolution. With all of the immortal elders dead, the European underworld war degenerates into chaos. Hunted by both vampire and lycan, Selene and Michael flee the continent.
1. Chapter 1

Author's foreword: I do not own any of the characters appearing in the following story, even the ones I've created. This story is not intended to generate profit, merely the enjoyment of writing it and, hopefully, your enjoyment in reading it.

My thanks to Joe Stoppinghem, for beta reading.

Chapter 1: We Can't Stay Here

Pain and weakness, that's what his so-called life had become. Pain from his torn throat and wounded shoulders; weakness from having is body drained so completely that he thought the bastard Marcus would squeeze him like a tube of toothpaste. Andreas Tanis lay on the floor of his home, his prison, watching the lifeblood drain from his flesh.

Still, the rampaging elder had finally left. Tanis wasn't ashamed to admit that he was terrified of Marcus. The original vampire had never been patient or understanding. Being caught between him and Victor had been an absolute nightmare for the vampire historian. He remembered the only time he had ever seen them smile in each other's presence. Shortly after they had given him the task to record the coven's history, they had demanded that he record only the truth.

"Whose truth?" He had demanded.

Marcus and Victor had glared at him for several, heart stopping minutes before glaring at each other. Suddenly, both horrifying elders had burst into laughter, conceding the point that they both wanted certain events colored to their own liking.

"The objective truth," Victor had told him, recovering his wits before his rival. Marcus had merely nodded his agreement. Of course, that didn't stop either elder from beating him when the objective truth wasn't to their liking.

"_Can't let my mind wander like this,"_ he chided himself. _"Have to make use of the precautions I made."_

Spending centuries caught between the two violent, egotistical immortals had taught Tanis to take certain steps to insure his survival. Several of these contingencies had failed him but others remained. With supreme effort, he began to slither across the floor.

If Marcus had left him with another liter of blood, would the additional strength be enough to overcome the additional weight? It was something to contemplate. Something to keep his mind off of the fact that he was in a slow, dragging race against death. With each second, with each push of his trembling limbs on the cold, stone floor, the last precious drops of his life leaked away. Still, there was a chance…

He was actually shocked when his head struck the wall. His aim had been true! He looked up to see the wine cask, resting on the stand above him. For a moment, hope surged through him, only to wither again. There was no way he was going to be able to stand, much less tap the cask.

Still, he refused to give up. He looked around and spotted the lighter, the long, brass pole with a wick at the end, which was used to light candles. Thinking quickly, he seized the pole and broke off the end. With the last of his strength, he jabbed at the wine cask. He almost wept with relief when thin wood gave way under prodding brass.

The cask wasn't full of wine, of course. It was full of the vampire coven's synthetic blood, cooled by a hidden refrigeration system. This fake blood now poured out of the gap he had forced in the wood; pouring out in a stream that the sprawled Tanis caught in his mouth. While Tanis might prefer the real thing, the fake stuff was filling his body with new strength, healing his wounds. All too soon, the flow ended.

Tanis, however, now had the strength to stand. He still felt weak, ravenous, but he could at least stumble through the one-time monastery, down to the cellars, where he kept his emergency supplies. Deep in the earth, he broached another container and indulged in the life-giving fluid. Before, he had been ravenous, like a man dying of thirst, guzzling water from a garden hose. Now, he was more composed, like a thirsty businessman sipping an iced latte while reading the morning paper. Much like that imaginary businessman, he contemplated how recent events affected him.

He couldn't stay here, that was obvious. If he was to believe Selene, then Victor, Lucian and Amelia were all dead. Now Marcus was active and hunting Selene and her hybrid lover, who were seeking Lorenz Marcus. All things considered, he predicted that a major confrontation was about to take place. Whoever came out on top (his money was on Marcus) was sure to have a beef against him. Of course, someone would eventually come for his records, so he had to leave soon. Still, the sun was about to come up, which gave him time to consider his best course of action.

The historian refilled his goblet and seated himself at a computer terminal, thinking about where he could go. Not only was anywhere in Hungary out of the question, he also discarded all of Eastern Europe as being too close to Hungary. After a moment, he discarded the notion of remaining in Europe, using the logic that all of Europe was too close to Eastern Europe. For a moment, he considered the Orient, before discarding the notion. Adreas Tanis wasn't a racist, he thought humans of all sorts were delectable, but he was a realist. While he had no doubt that there were plenty of Europeans to be found in the orient, he would be better served relocating somewhere where Europeans were in the majority, giving him a better chance to blend in. That meant North America, Australia, or New Zealand.

For a brief moment, a little bit of an adventurous spirit rose within him, prompting him to relocate south of the equator. Then, reality imposed its will upon him again. To the best of his knowledge, there had never been a vampire coven in the Southern Hemisphere. Tanis wasn't a pioneer and he didn't have the time and resources to set up a safe haven from his prison. He had no intention of stepping onto a new continent blind, with no safe haven awaiting him. No, if he was going to flee Europe he was going to have to flee to Amelia's New World Coven, located in New Orleans. He sighed, knowing what he would have to do.

As the vampire's historian, Tanis had recorded the New World Coven's travels. Elders, like Amelia and her trusted lieutenants, traveled in luxury. Underlings and rogues, like him, traveled in modified shipping containers. He knew the proper companies and individuals to contact, so he started to make arrangements. He experienced a moment of panic when he realized that he wouldn't be able to actually leave the continent for several days. Then he started to think again and arranged for some less than luxurious quarters, in Antwerp. Even if he couldn't get out of Europe right away, he would be able to get away from his prison and disappear. It was going to be a long, uncomfortable journey, but it would be preferable to dying.

* * *

"We can't stay here," Selene informed Michael.

"Of course we can't," her lover agreed. "We have to get back to the nearest town so we can…Oh, you mean we can't stay in Hungary, don't you?"

Selene merely gave the young man an odd look. Soon, the hybrid, would-have-been doctor was squirming like a schoolboy who hadn't done his homework.

"Okay, could you tell me how stupid I am, instead of just rubbing it in my face?"

"_He isn't stupid," _she realized. _"Just inexperienced. How many of my own coven, vampires who had existed for centuries, failed to realize that it was time to flee Ordoghaz?"_

"The last couple of days have been the worst disaster the vampire coven has ever seen," she informed him, all business as she led the way out of the shattered castle. "All three elders are gone and Ordoghaz, the seat of vampire power, is no more."

"I'm still not understanding," he confessed, falling in step behind her.

"You don't understand immortal politics," she informed him, not breaking her stride. "The surviving vampires are going to be seeking to seize control of what's left of the coven."

"That's not so different from human politics," Michael protested. "From what I've seen, the coven owned vast, rich resources. Anybody would want to control that."

"So far, so good," she commented on his limited understanding. "What you don't realize is that all of the older, well connected vampires will be trying to prove their fitness to lead the coven." She stopped and turned, giving him a dire look. "The best way to do that will be to bring in the heads of anybody responsible for the elders' deaths."

"Meaning the two of us," Michael finished.

"I slew Victor and Marcus with my own hand," she explained, turning and continuing her march. "While I had no hand in Amelia's death, nobody is going to be questioning that. If one of the remaining viceroys kills us off, all the surviving vampires will assume that we were guilty for all three elders' deaths."

"I take it we can't just go to ground and wait this out?" Michael offered.

"Not in Europe," Selene informed him. "The coven has safehouses and informants all over the continent. While the British Isles, Scandinavia and Sicily aren't compromised; they're just too close to the mainland to remain safe. We have to leave soon."

"How long before they start hunting us?"

"A few days, maybe even a week," she mused. "Even the most ambitious vampire will wait that long to make sure that Marcus isn't still around. Then it will take a few days for them to find out who's still alive and start forming power bases."

"Why don't **you** seize control?" Michael asked. "You know the truth and you put an end to Victor's treachery and Marcus's mad dream. Isn't that worth anything?"

It would be," she told him. "But it wouldn't work, for two reasons."

"Which are?"

"First, I don't have the head for ruling a group of irrepressible ego-maniacs," she snarled. "I've spent my entire adult life as a soldier, not an administrator. I wouldn't be able to deal with the bureaucrats and functionaries, even though I know they're necessary. If I were to seize control, it would turn into an unmitigated disaster."

"The second reason?" He prompted.

"The remainder will never accept you," she told him. "So much of our identity as a coven was based upon eradicating the lycans. If I were to waltz in to a meeting with you at my side, I'd have a revolt on my hand."

"So if you were to just leave me behind…"

"That's not acceptable, Michael," she curtly informed him. For a moment, he thought he heard a quaver in her voice. Perhaps it was his imagination, since she was all business a moment later.

"Come," she instructed him. "While sunlight doesn't harm me anymore, we're hardly in a favorable position. We need to find a safehouse. The first policeman who sees us is going to arrest us, just on our appearance alone. We've also been injured and need to feed. Once we find some shelter, _**I'll**_ decide where we go next."

Message received. She had informed him that she was still calling the shots but he was warmed by the idea that she refused to abandon him.

* * *

"Hey John, need a beer?"

"Maybe in a couple of hours," John answered his neighbor. "I appreciate it, but I've learned that the work doesn't get done after I've popped the first top. I want to finish, since I have a nephew showing up tomorrow."

Keith chuckled at his neighbor. John was a good sort, the kind of guy who worked his butt off, day after day, but wasn't too proud to joke or to meet up for a drink or two at the roadhouse. The middle-aged farmer stepped forward and gave the younger man a hand with his fencing. Keith was a wheat farmer and John worked on an adjoining cattle ranch, so keeping the fence in good repair was a good way to remain friends with the neighbors.

Keith frowned just a little when he thought about the ranch John worked on. The term ranch might be a little bit misleading; colony came closer to the truth. Keith had read about various cults and nut groups that had set up here, in the American West and he knew that some of the locals suspected Farrier Ranch of being such an organization.

The ranch housed several families and they tended to keep to themselves. For one thing, they must home-school the kids, since they didn't have any children in the local schools. Keith had met most of the adults that lived on the ranch, and he couldn't believe that that many young couples wouldn't have a few kids. Secondly, they didn't socialize with the other locals, just for the sake of socializing. This made the more distant neighbors a little nervous.

Still, Keith was sure that they weren't some sort of dangerous cult or anything like that. While they didn't go out and mingle, they were friendly when you ran into them, like John was right now. Also, they would stop by the roadhouse for a beer and some conversation, whenever they were in town to sell off cattle or buy supplies. Also, they were welcoming and friendly whenever you went over for a visit. They may prefer solitude, but they knew how to be neighborly. Finally, they didn't act differently than the other locals. From what Keith had read (he didn't put much faith in the rumors that went around) cult members and other groups tended to act differently, like they were trying to stand out from those around them. The people who lived on Farrier Ranch dressed the same as the other locals, spoke the same, cussed the same, and complained about the government, just the same.

No, they weren't some sort of cult. Keith figured that they were a bunch that just preferred their own company. If the more distant neighbors didn't realize that, at least they had the decency to not make trouble. All told, Keith considered the Farrier Ranch to be full of good neighbors and hoped that they considered him the same.

The two men continued to work, fixing the four-mile length of fence that separated their property. Once done, John took him up on his offer of a beer. The two men sat in the shade of Keith's pickup, discussing the weather and local politics. Both men were jaded, ignoring the sweeping vista of Montana plains and hills spread out before them.

"So, this nephew of yours," Keith offered, as a way of making conversation. "Is he some sort of city boy that wants to see what the country's like?"

"No, he's just getting out of the service," John answered. "He'll be living here for at least a little while."

"What branch?" Keith asked. Like many of those in the rural west, he had put in an enlistment.

"Army, Infantry, Ranger," John answered. Keith nodded in a show of respect. The farmer had put in four years as an infantryman but had never sought to join the more elite units.

Finishing the beers, the two men shook hands and went their separate ways, to their separate chores.

Keith never suspected that his neighbor and distant friend, John, was quite possibly the deadliest being on the face of the planet.

* * *

"_So this in New Orleans,"_ she thought, looking around the city_. "It could be almost any city in France or Spain._" Although she had never left Europe, she had expected something…different…from a North American City. She remembered reading some world traveler's remarks, in which he said that he considered New Orleans a European city that woke up one morning to discover that it was in America. Still, there were subtle changes that reminded her that she was no longer on the continent of her birth.

The streets were alive tonight, or was this normal for this…hedonistic…city? The atmosphere hummed with a stirring vitality and the air carried the scents of fine food, sweat, alcohol and the other substances with which humans altered their perceptions. She was sorely tempted to sample the nightlife but realized that she had to take care of business before indulging herself. It wouldn't do to be caught without shelter after sunup.

She had a vague idea where she needed to go and fortunately, she had learned English. While her grammar probably made her come across as strange, her Hungarian accent explained her odd choice of words. She was a foreigner, here to enjoy the sights and spend her money. She was smart enough to stay on the public streets, where people were friendly to visitors, when she asked directions. Before long, she was in a cab and on her way to the city's outskirts. The cab pulled up in front of a large, ornate house and she realized that she hadn't taken the time to change her Euros for American currency.

"That won't be necessary," the cab driver told her. "If you can tell us what happened to our coven mates, that'll be payment enough for both transportation and shelter."

She was frightened that she had failed to recognize one of her own but she quickly swallowed her anxiety. She had nothing to do with Amelia's death. Surely those inside wouldn't seek revenge on her.

"My thanks," she offered the driver. "I had expected proper hospitality once I found my own kind but it is wonderful to find the hospitality seek me out."

Her praise, backed up with her most alluring smile, had the desired effect. The driver got out and held the door, like a proper gentleman, and escorted her to the front gate. An attendant ushered her into the house and to a comfortable office. Shortly after the attendant left, another man walked into the room.

"Good day, Miss…" the man prompted, holding out his hand.

"Erika will do," she replied, studying him as he kissed the back of her hand. He appeared to be a fit man in his early forties, fit, pale and inquisitive. She would have to show some caution.

"Erika," he repeated, as if committing the name to his memory. He straightened and walked around the desk, where he seated himself.

"Erika, I'm going to be perfectly blunt with you," he said, steepling his fingers in front of his face. "I've been waiting for your arrival ever since an…employee of a certain shipping company told me about a special shipping request. Now, you arranged for your transportation after Amelia was due to arrive in Europe. The last communication we had, from her entourage, was that they had arrived safely in Le Havre, and that they were embarking upon their special train car, for Budapest."

"Less than a day later," he continued. "Various Hungarian news agencies reported gunfights in Budapest, including some sort of multiple murder at the train station, at roughly the time Amelia's train was due to arrive. When we contacted Ordoghaz, a functionary told us that Victor was awake, that there was a great deal of confusion and that he would try to sort out what was happening. When we attempted to contact Ordoghaz again, there was no response and now the news agencies report that it has burned to the ground."

"Now," here, the man's eyes became intent. "Shortly after the mansion burned down, you made your travel arrangements. We _hoped_ we would receive Amelia. We _expected_ to receive the regent or maybe another high ranking functionary. Instead, we receive a youngster whom, although appealing in her own right, doesn't have the stature we expected. We are desperate for any knowledge we can glean about Amelia, her party and our European kin. So, I hope you can appreciate that your reception, your very existence, depends upon what you can tell us about these events in Hungary."

"Like you said, I'm not a major player," Erika admitted, buying herself a little time. She decided to be truthful, deceit could always be added after she had gained his trust. "Here's what little I know. I know that the entire mansion was on edge, anticipating Amelia's arrival and Marcus's re-awakening. Of course, whenever the elder's exchange places, the regents, viceroys and other functionaries change as well. I got caught up in a power play."

"A power play against the elders?" The tone was mild but the expression behind it was not.

"No!" She insisted. "I-I don't know how things work in this coven, but in Hungary, we were always vying for position, trying to get the best stations for ourselves." She glanced at her host and saw a gleam of recognition. He knew what she was talking about.

"The current regent hoped to maintain his authority, even after Marcus assumed his stewardship." She met her host's gaze and continued. "I attempted to…align myself with the regent, in the only way I had available."

"I assume your attempt proved futile," her host's look wasn't accusing and disgusted, it was actually sympathetic.

"As you've noted, I'm not an experienced functionary," she continued. "So this appeared to be my best option. That and the regent _was_ sort of cute. Unfortunately, I had a rival. The real tragedy was that she didn't want to be my rival, but Kraven was obsessed with her, even though she didn't want anything to do with him. He ordered her confined to the mansion and I orchestrated her escape."

"Getting her out of your way?" The host asked, with approval in his expression.

"Exactly," Erika nodded. "That's when I realized that the regent's actions went…well beyond simple maneuvering for position. I overheard conversations that suggested Kraven might have…allied with lycans. Then the news arrived that Amelia had been killed, my rival had awoken Victor and Kraven had fled. I feared that anyone associated with the regent, even those who simply wanted to be associated with him would be tainted. I fled the coven and when I heard that the mansion had burned, I fled here."

The host looked at her with a level gaze, staring at her until she couldn't help but squirm.

"You're exhausted and famished," he declared, pushing a button on his telephone. "I will arrange for a repast and sleeping quarters, before questioning you again. I suggest you review what you know and be very truthful. We will use all means at our disposal to verify your story. In addition, another has recently made arrangements to travel here, from Europe. We will see how your stories match with each other."

A polite knock sounded at the door and the host gave permission to enter. Three large vampires strode into the room and ushered Erika to a guestroom, where a large snifter of spiced blood awaited her. Although the three had impeccable manners, Erika knew Death Dealers when she saw them. She had managed to obtain a stay of execution but her continued existence depended upon whom this other mystery traveler was and what he had to say.


	2. Chapter 2, Traveling

Chapter 2: Traveling

"Hsst, Selene, someone just came in the front door!"

"I am perfectly aware of that, Michael," the former death dealer told her companion. "There are over forty units in this apartment building, so one would expect people to be showing up at all hours." Selene had a decidedly amused look.

"Are you aware that three more just slipped in through the roof hatch?" Michael asked her. "And that they're vampires?" The television in the small living room was on, so the hybrid immortal was sure that their neighbors, on the other side of the tissue paper and spit wall, couldn't overhear the conversation.

Selene was a consummate professional; she didn't waste time gawking, she simply readied the firearm that was never out of arm's reach.

"How do you know?" She asked, curtly.

"There's an air-return near the roof hatch," he told her. "And I can identify three different vampire scents. None of them are familiar to me."

"Damn," Selene muttered. Michael hadn't been in the presence of many vampires; at least since he had turned, so she really hadn't expected him to be able to match names with smells. The problem was that she hadn't expected her…former kin…to track them down so quickly.

They had rented this tiny apartment, then spent the next couple of days raiding coven stashes for weapons and money. Yesterday afternoon Selene decided that they had enough money to flee Europe, so they spent the night debating where they would go. Last night, a pair of werewolves had approached the couple, while they were returning from an Internet café. Selene and Michael had quickly overpowered their assailants, then assured them that they were going to be leaving the area within the next couple of days. This seemed to satisfy the local pack. While Michael could sense other werewolves about, none had approached the pair.

"Michael," she hissed, bringing herself back to the here and now. "Can you smell weapons?"

"I smell steel and silver," he replied.

"How about gun oil?" She demanded.

"Yes," he replied, after a moment. "But what does that matter?"

"Okay, they're coming in armed," Selene explained. "There's a chance, a slim chance, that they aren't after us. They may have noted the lycans in the area and may be moving in to eliminate them."

"Which means we're facing death dealers," Michael noted.

Selene gave him a grim scowl and tossed him a handgun. For a moment, she wished that they had the lycan's ultraviolet rounds, or Khan's silver nitrate rounds. That hope was vain; such ammunition hadn't become standard throughout the underworld battlefield yet, leaving them with simple silver. Michael tucked the weapon in his waistband and Selene approved of that approach. Michael wasn't skilled with firearms and in a confused melee; he would be just as dangerous towards her as towards any potential assailants. He would be much more effective in his hybrid form.

Selene sighed, weapon's skills was something she would have to teach Michael if they ever managed to elude both the vampires and the lycans.

"How much money do we have?" She asked him.

"A few thousand Euros," he answered. They had spent most of the safehouses' money on plane tickets, which they had purchased at the Internet café.

"Okay, here's the plan," she whispered. "We get ready to run. If they break in, we take them out, then find some hotel room or guesthouse. If they don't break in, we wait until they leave, then relocate."

"Why do we need a room?" Michael asked. "You can handle the sunlight now, and we're hardly the type to be afraid of the dark. Why don't we just find a bridge or a culvert someplace?"

Selene was pleased to note that although he questioned her, he stuffed their meager belongings into a backpack and threw it over his shoulders, while he was speaking.

"Bec…" she began to explain, only to have him silence her with an upraised hand. She wasn't used to being silenced by a greenhorn, but she wasn't about to dispute his lycan senses.

Michael pointed at the door, then raise one, two, then three fingers. Catching her eye, he pointed at his own eyeteeth. She understood the message; all three vampires were just outside the door. She waved him in one direction while she slid the other way. He complied, assuming his hybrid form. The former Death Dealer started to motion to her lover, trying to tell him what to do but a spray of bullets through the door interrupted her efforts.

Selene threw herself to the ground, rolling as far out of line with the door as she could as Michael did the same in the opposite direction. Moments after the bullets shredded her door, three vampires burst through the shredded wood and into the tiny apartment. Selene breathed a sigh of relief, seeing Michael do exactly what she had been trying to tell him to; he threw himself into the middle of the invaders.

Selene took aim, prepared to gun down any of the invaders that broke out of the melee. While she was more than capable in a scrum Michael, with his hybrid speed and strength, was on another level altogether. She would best help him by eliminating any of the attackers who managed to break free of the fracas and take aim at him…like that one!

One vampire broke away from the wild fray and raised his pistol. Selene emptied her magazine into his body as she closed upon him. The bullets stunned and surprised him, giving her time to pull out her short-bladed sword. He brought up his weapon and Selene chopped off his hand. He swung his other fist at her and she ducked the blow, chopping through his ankle. The man fell and Selene rose behind him, catching him around his throat and making two, quick slashes on the insides of his thighs, opening the femoral arteries. Selene dropped the man and turned to assist Michael, only to see that her lover had finished his opponents.

One of the invading vampires lay on the floor with his face looking backwards, over his own back. Michael's hybrid strength had easily snapped the Death Dealer's neck. The other sat on the floor, leaned against the wall with blood pouring from multiple, deep slashes. Selene was dismayed to see that her lover sported a bullet wound. They were going to have to do something she found…distasteful.

"Take that one!" She commanded him, hoisting her opponent to his feet and pointing at the still-sitting attacker.

"What?" Michael was clearly confused.

"Feed!" She ordered him.

"I can't…" he started to protest.

"DO WHAT I SAY!" She snapped, then pinned her opponent to the wall, lifted his severed wrist to her mouth, and drained life from the feebly struggling vampire. Michael remembered the near disaster at the tavern and followed suit. Moments later, his bullet wound closed.

Selene beheaded her opponent and did the same to Michael's. "Grab their wallets!" She ordered him, emptying one of their pockets. Michael quickly followed suit. "Now follow me!" She snapped.

The two slipped up to the roof, a route they had already scouted, and sprang across the rooftops, clearing the area as sirens converged upon the apartment building.

* * *

"_Thank the elders, or God, or whomever for the Internet,"_ Tanis thought. "_For without it, I would certainly go mad. While I'm at it, thank whomever came up with satellite communications, whomever decided to link the two, and whomever invented the chemical toilet."_

Stowed away in his modified shipping container, Tanis was able to track his own progress via GPS and spend his time studying his new homeland. His supply of synthetic blood would be more than enough to see him through the trip and the chemical toilet kept various odors from becoming overpowering. Still, it wasn't the sort of trip he wanted to undertake very often.

He also spent his time going over the story he would tell his new coven, upon arrival. Tanis was perfectly aware that he wasn't skilled in the art of manipulating people. If he were, he wouldn't have spent centuries exiled to a former monastery. However, he did have two, formidable skills. First, he was an outstanding information broker. He knew how to find information, process it, interpret it and distribute it. Secondly, he was a survivor, unfettered by morals or loyalty. Tanis would say whatever he needed to say, and would do whatever he needed to do, in order to survive.

He knew enough to blame those who were either already dead, or who had placed themselves in a position to be scapegoats. He would blame Kraven and his conspiracy with Lucian for Amelia's death; the fact that it was the truth would make the story easy to sell. He would blame Selene for Victor's death; again, since she had admitted to the feat it would be easy to make the story believable. Beyond that, things go a little tricky. How could he explain his decision to flee, defying Victor's orders?

He thought for several minutes before coming up with his story's framework. He knew all about Marcus's desire to free his imprisoned brother, and how this desire disgusted most other vampires. That was a good starting point. Okay, he would claim that Selene and another had arrived at his prison, telling him that Victor, Amelia and Lucian were all dead. He would also claim, truthfully, that Selene admitted to killing Victor at this time. He would then claim that with Victor dead, he did not consider his banishment to be binding. He would admit that Marcus had arrived, attacked him, and extracted the information about his brother's prison.

Tanis suddenly smiled, he could actually come out of this as a minor hero! He wasn't just a fleeing refugee; he was a desperate messenger! He fled to the New World Coven not just to save his own skin, but to warn them about Marcus's insane plan! After all, the European immortals were now scattered and leaderless. Only Amelia's organization, even without her, had the ability to keep Marcus from fatally exposing the immortals' existence. Tanis reviewed his story and found the mix to his liking.

"_Five parts truth to one part bullshit,"_ he thought. _"They should swallow it whole. The only lie is my motivation. My news is sure to throw the coven into a whirlwind of activity and confusion. In the chaos, I might be able to secure myself a nice position there, or maybe even slip away and start my own coven."_

Satisfied with his story's basics, he started to flesh out the details, becoming optimistic about his future for the first time in centuries.

* * *

The bus doors opened, allowing a young man in an Army Class A Uniform to step out onto the pavement. The small town didn't have a proper bus stop; a corner of the only truck stop served that capacity. Because of this, several sets of eyes watched him climb off and wait patiently to retrieve his dufflebags from the luggage space. Once he had his bags in hand, he flipped one onto each shoulder and started towards the building, diverting when he spotted his 'uncle'. John had just pulled up in his pickup, he climbed out to meet the younger man and took one of the bags.

The few bystanders nodded politely at the two men. There were places in the Country where the uniform welcomed scorn, but not rural Montana. Here, almost everybody knew what the sergeant's stripes and Ranger Tab meant. Such decorations were more likely to result in an offer to buy the bearer a drink, than earn a scowl. John was forced to make a few introductions, and his nephew was forced to shake a few hands, on the way to the pickup. Neither man minded one bit. Soon, the bags were in the bed and the two men were in the cab, where they could speak, privately.

"What capacity will you have me serve, senior?" The younger man asked.

"At first, we'll have you drill the rest of us and help out with any retrievals," John informed him, approving of the younger man's attitude. This was exactly the demeanor he liked to see from his followers; respectful, trusting and giving his loyalty rather than having it forced. "I'm thinking of putting you back in school next fall. Do you have your GI bill set up?"

"The full amount," the younger man answered.

"What would you like to study?" John asked.

"Whatever you feel appropriate for the family," his 'nephew', Brian, answered."

"Son," John replied to the offer. "I've learned a couple things over the years, and one of them is that you'll best serve the family by doing what you enjoy doing. I appreciate that you're willing to put it in my hands but answer me, what's got your interest?"

"Well, I'm pretty good at keeping vehicles going and I'd kind of like taking a crack at designing them, myself," Brian suggested.

"Mechanical engineering is a good field," John agreed. "And you can study it down in Boseman. I'm sure we won't have any problems getting you into the program. After that, you'll be due to spend some time away from the family, holding down a job and fitting into society."

"If that's what you need me to do, I'm up for it," Brian assured his elder. John, on the other hand, could tell that the younger man was happy with the course he'd just laid out. The two had a pleasant conversation the rest of the way to Farrier Ranch. The rest of the extended family was, of course, waiting for them.

"It's been too long," Shelly, Brian's mother declared, rushing forward to embrace her son. Brian's father, Jeff, stepped forward to shake hands with his son, pride evident on his face. The extended family was fairly large, so the reunion took some time.

"Okay everyone, let's give our boy some air," John declared, when the reunion started to get just a little out of hand. "He's had a long trip and I'm sure that he'd like to hit his room, unwind a little, and get some civilian clothes on."

"After that," John gestured towards a pen, where several, prime cattle were confined. "I'm sure he'd like to have himself a proper meal, then we can all stretch our legs a little, tonight."

* * *

"I never thought **I'd** say this to **you**, Selene, but will you please stop fidgeting?"

Selene looked at her companion with just a little annoyance and after a moment, a great deal of humor. They had discussed this last night, although Selene was now immune to daylight, she had spent centuries terrified of the sun. She couldn't discard that fear in a couple of days, which meant that she found commercial air travel terrifying. While she had been airborne before, the thought of being thousands of feet in the air, in the open sun, was something that would take her time to accept.

Michael looked around the airliner and realized that their immediate neighbors had settled down for some sleep. "Have you been able to find out anything?" He asked her.

"Not much," she answered. After they had checked into a decidedly non-luxurious hotel, the former Death Dealer had sought solitude, trying to sift through the memories she had gained by feeding on her assailant. For all of her centuries of immortality, she hadn't perfected the knack of picking out the memories that she gained with her feeding. This was another skill that only the elders had acquired and the remaining vampires would miss the stability this had offered.

"I have the impression that they were interested in whatever the lycans were interested in," she told her companion. "But I cannot tell if they decided among themselves or they were ordered by another. Were you able to decipher anything?"

"Only that I have a lot to learn," he admitted. "I got more coherent memories from when Lucian bit me."

"Lucian was an elder," Selene explained. "Or as close as the lycans had to one. The elders are…or were…capable of organizing their thoughts for the transfer. That's why it took Victor so long to find Kraven's treachery in my memories."

The beautiful immortal suddenly fell silent, having named her former mentor, and treachery, in the same sentence. Michael reached out and squeezed her hand, offering what comfort he could. He understood that he couldn't comprehend the level of her disquiet. While his entire life had crumbled around him, he had experienced only twenty-six years of life. Selene had recently discovered that her entire span of immortality, centuries of experience, had been a lie.

"So, explain our route again," Selene requested, taking her mind off of her betrayal and focusing on what came next.

"Right," he agreed, understanding her need. "You said that we shouldn't fly into New Orleans, since the coven might be up in arms. We're going to land in Houston, then rent a car. We have enough money to spend a few weeks checking out the area, before we try to make contact."

"Okay, what about feeding," Selene asked, also making sure that their neighbors weren't listening in. "We fed well last night but we'll have to feed again in another day or so."

"We should be able to find some beef or dairy ranches in the area," Michael assured her. "We can feed on cattle, without causing permanent harm, can't we?"

"Yes, but it's tricky."

"I'm hoping that you'll be able to keep me under control."

This time, Selene squeezed his had to reassure him, "are we going to be anywhere near your family?" She asked him. "Anybody you know?"

"I don't think so," he informed his companion. "My family is from the Indianapolis area, which is a little over three hundred miles…er…a little over five hundred kilometers, from New Orleans. Houston is even farther."

"How about extended family or classmates?"

"My family is very small, I only have a half-dozed cousins and they all live either in Indianapolis or Chicago. As for classmates, you never know but I wasn't all that close to any of them." Now it was Michael's turn to look distraught.

"What's wrong?" Selene asked.

"My parents. I wish that we could have faked my death, or something. I've just disappeared and I'm an only child. I mean, I know that they'll never know what happened to me but I hate the thought of them spending the rest of their lives thinking I might walk back in the door."

"It's best for them," Selene told him. "If we are followed, if the remaining coven members or lycans suspect you're still alive, they would be in danger."

"I know that!" Michael insisted. "It just sucks, that's all."

"We'll see what we can do, once we make contact with the New World Coven. If not, we could be in for some rough times. You're not exactly experienced in this life and I've never been out of Europe before."

"So we're two babes in the woods," Michael murmured.

"Two of the most dangerous beings on the planet, but yes, two lost souls."

* * *

_A/N:_

_I would like to thank everyone who has been reading this story, as my first 'Underworld' undertaking, there are some rough edges. Once again, I'd like to thank Joe Stoppinghem for beta reading._

_Until my next update, best wishes to all,_

_daccu65_


	3. Chapter 3, Arrival

Chapter 3: Arrival

"So let's go through this again…how do you know that Amelia is dead?"

Tanis was quickly growing weary of the questions but he realized that his continued existence depended upon prompt and fact-like, if not factual, answers.

"I never saw her body," he answered his questioner. "Both Selene and Marcus told me that she was dead."

"Why didn't you confirm this?"

"How could I have confirmed it? Both of them told me about it after a full day had gone by. I don't know how things work here in America but the Hungarian officials don't leave corpses lying around that long. Not to mention, the morgues are only open during the day. I've been exiled for over six hundred years so I was hardly in a position to play chummy with the mortals and track her down."

"What became of Marcus after he left your monastery?"

"I have no idea and I wasn't about to find out. He had already attacked me and nearly killed me! I wanted nothing more to do with him!"

"Selene and this Michael?"

"I have no clue to their fate, either. They were going to meet Lorenz Marco."

"The head of the Cleaners?"

"Yes, him! Marcus sucked the information out of me and he was heading in that direction, as well. I couldn't handle Selene, much less Marcus. If you throw the two of them together and add the Cleaners and this Michael fellow, it was clearly time for me to clear out."

"Very well, why did you chose to come here?"

"It was too dangerous back in dear old Hungary," Tanis told him. "First of all, Marcus was going to try to release his brother and Selene was going to try to stop him. There was about to be one major confrontation! Now, the European Coven was left in complete disarray when Marcus destroyed the mansion so I fled here, to the only organized coven I knew about."

"To what purpose?"

"So you could decide what, if anything, to do about Marcus. I know he's an elder but I don't think we want his mad brother running around."

"What do you know about the coven's regent, Kraven?"

"I haven't seen him for years. Marcus said that he had killed him."

A gasp sounded from outside the room at this last piece of information. Tanis's questioner sighed.

"You might as well bring her in," he announced. "Their stories match, at least what little information they have."

Two death dealers escorted a very attractive blonde into the comfortable office, the office that Tanis had dubbed the Interrogation Chamber. Once the female (somehow, Tanis knew that she wasn't a lady) was seated, the questioner motioned towards the door and all four Death Dealer's exited. With the door closed behind them, the man began to speak again.

"I must apologize for my earlier manners," he said, although his tone conveyed no such apology. "But Amelia charged me with this coven's safety while she was gone. Now, it appears that she will never return."

Tanis was more than a little surprised at the genuine sadness in his demeanor.

"I hope you realize that I had to treat you with such suspicion, for fear that you may have been spies, sent to scout our coven while our elder was absent. Your stories match each others well enough and they match what we've been able to determine is happening in Europe." Here, the man leaned back and steepled his fingers again, much like when he had questioned Erika. "The question now is what is to be done with the two of you?"

"I would hope to resume my previous duties," Tanis replied. "Master…"

"Lecoq," the man replied. "Perhaps I should introduce the two of you. Andreas Tanis, your companion goes by the name of Erika."

"And you've been part of the coven for less than a century," Tanis finished. "Master Lecoq, you have been an immortal for roughly two and a half centuries."

Tanis smiled at his companions' shocked looks before continuing, "Although I was in exile, I still received regular updates about who joined the coven and under which circumstances. Kraven sent me weekly updates, at Victor's order, and my New World counterpart, Mistress Montand, sent me quarterly updates." Tanis paused for a moment, "Would it be possible for me to meet her?"

"I don't think you want to do that," Mr. Lecoq told his visitor. "She was part of Amelia's entourage, so I suspect that she has been killed. However, you make me realize that we are now without a historian. I hereby appoint you to that position, within this coven. I trust you brought copies of your European histories?"

"Right here," Tanis produced a CD.

"I will require you to translate them from Hungarian," Lecoq informed him. "I do not know any Eastern European languages."

"They're in Latin, actually," Tanis informed him.

"Very well, I will show you to Montand's office; it is now yours."

Tanis bowed in recognition of the honor bestowed him.

"Now, Miss Erika, what skills and knowledge can you contribute to your new family?"

"_What skills indeed?"_ Tanis thought.

"I-I was an assistant," Erika claimed. "Whenever someone wanted something done, something simple, I took care of it. I was sort of a servant and sort of a secretary I-I…"

"The term in America is gopher," Lecoq informed her, with a smile. "I get the idea. We have a place for you, as well. You will share quarters with another of our gophers, and you will have duties. You won't live in the lap of luxury but I doubt that your life here will be any harder than your life in Hungary."

"Now," Lecoq declared, rising from his desk. His two, new underlings quickly rose, as well. "The moon has risen and none of us has yet dined this night. Why don't you join me on the terrace? It seems only right that we get to know each other, personally, before you take up your duties and privileges."

Erika and Tanis were indeed famished and Lecoq treated them to a meal of beef, rather than synthetic, blood. The regent smiled tolerantly at his guests, amused by how much attention they paid to their repast. Finally, the Europeans had sated their hunger and were more inclined to polite conversation. Erika remained quiet, observing her elders.

"My apologies," Tanis offered. "Or I should say our apologies." He figured that as the elder of the two, European Vampires, he should act as a sort of spokesman. "But you had us at a disadvantage. Not only were we both famished, but a beef repast is much more alluring than a synthetic meal. Still, I must compliment you upon relinquishing your advantage so generously."

"A flatterer indeed," Lecoq smiled, inclining his head to show he appreciated the compliment. "Now, since I have been subjecting the two of you to a flurry of questions, perhaps I could redeem my etiquette by answering some of yours."

"That's quite gracious," Tanis raised his glass in salute. "Is this mansion your only stronghold in New Orleans?"

"We have several other properties," Lecoq told the duo. "This is the most prestigious. Several of my contemporaries maintain their own households, with their own staffs and entourages. Amelia felt it wise to maintain multiple abodes, so that a single disaster cannot endanger the entire coven." He sighed, "her wisdom aides us even after her death."

"I met her on a couple of occasions," Tanis informed his host, raising his glass again. "Her wisdom and kindness will be missed forever."

"Perhaps I could satisfy more of your curiosity?" Lecoq replied, clearly wanting to change the subject.

"The updates I received stated that your coven had established refuges in other cities," Tanis obliged him. "Could I ask which cities you have expanded into?"

"We maintain households in Las Vegas, San Francisco, and New York City." His host answered. "We maintain varying populations in these cities, sometimes as many as a dozen, sometimes as few as four coven members. In addition, we have dozens of what I call bolt holes throughout the continent. These might be stocked warehouses, modest houses, or even just a basement apartment. Although we don't have a permanent presence throughout North America, we can establish one, just about anywhere, on very short notice."

"A wise precaution," Tanis approved. "Spoken by one who has seen disaster befall. May I ask if you have had difficulties with the lycans upon this continent? The reports never mentioned troubles."

"There are no lycan packs in North America," Lecoq declared. "Don't give me that look! I do not make this claim out of boastfulness, but diligence. We carefully monitor all news and police reports for the first hint of what could be lycan activity. We investigate every report and have not found a lycan for almost a century. In the past, we eliminated a couple of individuals, but they have never managed to gain a foothold here."

"If you have no lycan threat to deal with, may I ask if you intend on dealing with Marcus?"

"Marcus is a sensitive subject," Lecoq returned. "I am sending a team to Hungary, to determine if he is alive and sane. If he is dead, or irrational, they will attempt to contact the remaining immortals in Europe."

"You question if he is alive?" Tanis asked.

"I do," Lecoq nodded. "I did not know him very well but from what I observed, he would have established his authority by now, if he were alive. I'm afraid to say that if he is both alive and sane, I will pledge my loyalty, and by extension this coven's loyalty, to him. This may have dire consequences for you."

Tanis lowered his head in humble acceptance, or at least a gesture that conveyed that message.

"But what of you, my dear," Lecoq turned his attention to Erika. "You have been most quiet during this conversation. Surely you have curiosities that don't deal with politics and administration."

"Well, I was wondering about the city," Erika confessed. "Do you spend any time in the city, mingling with the humans? It seemed a very lively, interesting place."

"Ah to be young and curious," Lecoq smiled at her. "To be honest, I hope to wander the streets of Paris, London, Rome, and Budapest at some time. Yes, my dear, the nightlife here is a wonderful diversion for the coven. While I must insist that you stay within the mansion, pending my team's report from Europe, I see no reason that you cannot take escorted trips to the city. It is too late to do so tonight, but perhaps tomorrow, if your duties allow, you will be able to sample the excitement that New Orleans can offer."

The three spent a couple more hours exchanging pleasant chitchat, until an alarm announced that dawn was but an hour away. With that, the three retired to their various quarters, to sleep the daylight hours away.

* * *

"Just what are we supposed to be looking for, anyway?"

Selene just looked at her companion with her partially annoyed, partially patient expression.

"Okay, fine, you don't have time to tell me," Michael sighed. "But do you realize that eventually, you might want me to do something useful? Then, you'll wish you had let me in on your mysterious plans."

"I'm looking for anything that's…out of place," she answered him. "And since I've never seen this mansion before today, nor any mansion other than Ordoghaz, I really don't know what I'm looking for. I'm trying to spot any sign that the mansion is being more alert than usual, or more or less populated."

"In other words, you're hoping to see some clue and you don't know what you're looking for?"

"Yes," she admitted. "I'm hoping that something will look wrong, from my perspective of seven centuries of immortality."

"Point taken," Michael admitted. "How many times do you want me to drive by the place?"

"That was the last time," she told him. "I don't want to press our luck by overplaying the 'lost tourist' characters. The vampires might be inside for the day but they have security cameras. I don't want one of them to get too curious about this vehicle and try to see inside."

"But if you've never been here before…" Michael began to protest.

"I've met with some of the Death Dealers that live here," she cut him off. "And they probably remember me as well as I remember them. In fact, Amelia offered me a position in her entourage but I stayed in Europe, out of loyalty to…" Selene's voice trailed off into silence.

"Gotcha," Michael nodded, trying to disrupt her bitter thoughts. "What are we hoping to accomplish, beyond looking for abnormal behavior?"

"The bottom line up front is that I want to plead our case to the current regent, or seneschal, or whatever Amelia named her most trusted lieutenant. The local Death Dealers reported that they didn't have many problems with lycans, so, hopefully, they won't be as reflexively violent towards you as the European coven." She looked at him with a sympathetic expression. "Life will be much easier for us if we can attach ourselves to an established coven."

"And you're trying to see a sign that they might be more receptive, or more hostile, before barging in," Michael finished for her.

"In a word, yes."

"Okay, what's the next move?"

"I don't want to, as you said, just barge into the mansion. We can come back on foot, tonight, and observe the comings and goings. We can also try to listen in on the conversations and judge the body language of those we can see."

"US? You're planing on bringing me along?" Michael adopted an expression of exaggerated shock.

"Like you said, it's about time you did something useful," her smug expression showed that she considered herself the winner in their little, verbal sparring match.

"One lycan nose and set of ears is at your disposal," he informed her, conceding the point.

* * *

"I'm going to need you to help run down a renegade," John told Brian, interrupting the drills the younger man was conducting.

"Of course, elder," the former Ranger told him, waving for his class to disperse.

"He's only about three hundred miles away," John explained as he and Brian threw their ready bags in the front of a horse trailer. "I don't know where he came from, but one of the family caught a whiff of him earlier today."

"How bad is it?" Brian asked, walking towards the driver's seat. John waved him to the passenger seat and climbed into the driver's side. John had to smile again, etiquette demanded that Brian offer to drive his elder, but John enjoyed it too much.

"He hasn't made too much trouble, yet," John told the younger man, as he pulled out of the shed and onto the dirt road. "There have been a few pets go missing and a few glimpses of something strange, at night. Still, folks are starting to talk. Our kinsman tried to talk to him today and the guy brushed him off. That means potential trouble and that means we're moving in."

"How many of us will be available?"

"You and me," John answered. "Our kinsman will act as backup. He checked out the rogue's apartment and didn't get a scent of any others, so I'm not risking a larger party. If anybody asks, we're heading to Laramie to pick up a new bull. When we got there, it had come down sick so we didn't want to take it across state lines."

Brian nodded; while he would have preferred a larger party, it was important to keep a low profile. He trusted his kinsman to confirm that there was only a single rogue present.

The two men soon finished their conversation about the upcoming confrontation and spent the rest of the trip discussing other topics. The miles flew by and it wasn't long before the two men pulled into the town in question, where their kinsman met them at a truck stop.

The kinsman led them to an abandoned farm, where they could park the trailer without generating suspicion. Then, as the sun went down, he led them to the subject's apartment. The three relatives found a rooftop, several blocks downwind of the building, and settled in to wait. Two hours after nightfall, a rough-dressed man exited the building.

"That's him," the kinsman told his companions. He really didn't need to, as all three could identify the quarry's race. Moving quickly and quietly, they stayed downwind while their target walked towards the town's outskirts. He slipped into a gully. Moments later, a werewolf emerged and raced through the night.

The three kinsmen didn't need to talk; trailing their quarry was almost instinctive. They kept downwind and kept quiet, following the werewolf across the prairie. After an hour, the monster approached an isolated farm. For several minutes, the werewolf circled the buildings and the kinsmen were scared that he was going to break into the house. Finally, thankfully, he approached a feedlot full of cattle. The bovines backed away from him, terrified.

"Hold on," John whispered command stopped both Brian and their kinsman, who were preparing to confront the creature. "This is my job."

"But elder," Brian whispered back. "We cannot risk you. What if…"

"This is my job," John's voice, although quiet and gentle, stifled any argument. "I have to give him a chance to give up. You two keep watch and make sure nobody else shows up."

Without another word, knowing that they would obey him, John sprinted for the feedlot and vaulted the fence. His noisy landing caught the werewolf's attention. For a moment, it looked like it was ready to flee. Then, the beast's nose caught John's scent and its eyes widened.

"There's no need for a fight," John told it. "Why don't you just change back and we'll talk this over?"

The creature hesitated for a moment, thinking things through. Then, with a quiet snarl, it hurled itself at the unarmed man. The great maw opened wide as the beast lunged forward, slavering fangs glinted in the moonlight as they slashed down upon tender flesh.

The fangs clashed together missing John, who had slid to one side like an oily shadow. The rancher lashed out with a backhand, which folded the towering beast around his hand. The air blasted out of the beasts lungs but John clamped a callused hand on his adversary's muzzle, stifling the yelp before it could start. John kicked the beast's hind legs out from under it, dropping it to its back. Before it could recover, he unleashed a powerful punch to its head, leaving it stunned in the mud and manure.

Not wasting time, John pulled a steel manacle out of a holster and clamped it on the werewolf's wrist. He then pulled a long, silver needle out of the same holster and drove it through some holes in the manacle, and the werewolf's flesh. Contact with the metal forced the lycan back into human form. John finished clamping the needle to the manacle during the transformation.

A high pitched whistle alerted him to possible trouble. He looked to the farmhouse, seeing that a light had just come on and his sharp ears picked up the sound of feet rushing across the floor. Displaying strength that belayed his normal appearance, the rancher threw the naked, stunned man over his shoulders, vaulted the fence and sprinted into the night, knowing that his kinsmen would catch up with him.

Minutes later, the farmer arrived at his feedlot. The man shone a flashlight around, unable to spot what had his cattle so panicked. After several minutes, he decided that they must have spotted a coyote or something. Still, that didn't explain why his dog was cowering under the porch. Usually, when coyotes, coons, or any other predator came by for a visit, the dog would be out trying to chase it off. Shrugging his shoulders, he went back to bed.

John, Brian, and their kinsman dashed across the dark prairie, passing the unconscious lycan between them so they wouldn't tire. In less than an hour, they were back at the horse trailer.

The three men extended a bar from the trailer and hooked a hanging scale from it. They dumped their captive into the net beneath the scale and after weighing him, gave him an injection that would keep him asleep for the next several hours. With their captive now out for the count, they bound and gagged him, then stuffed him into a hidden compartment, in the trailer. John thanked his kinsman and they parted ways, the kinsman to return to his life while John and Brian delivered their captive to Farrier Ranch.

* * *

_A/N: I'd like to take this opportunity to thank everyone who has been reading this, my first 'Underworld Story.' I hope you're enjoying my efforts. I'd like to extend an additional thanks to everyone who's taken the time to leave a review and/or a private message. The feedback is what tells me what I'm doing right and what I have to improve, so I appreciate them. _

_Finally, my fondest thanks go to Joe Stoppinghem, for his beta efforts._

_Until my next update, best wishes,_

_daccu65_


	4. Chapter 4, The Way Things Are

Chapter 4: The Way Things Are

Pain in his right wrist brought him awake.

The young man opened his eyes and immediately regretted doing so. Bright sunlight blinded him and made his head ache to the point that it competed with the wrist for causing the most pain. Realizing that he wasn't accomplishing anything, he decided to recall what happened. He remembered slipping out of town, ditching his clothes in the gully, changing and heading to the farm for blood. Then…

This time, he opened his eyes slowly, allowing them to adapt to the bright light. After a few minutes of contemplation, he became aware that he was lying on a cot, inside some sort of open-walled shed, naked but with a rough blanket covering him. By then, his eyes had adjusted to the light; allowing him to see his surroundings.

There was some sort of shackle on his right wrist, complete with a shiny needle that impaled his arm. Whoever had captured him knew how to keep him from changing form. There was also some kind of shackle on his left hand, but it didn't have a needle piercing his flesh. Trying, and failing to remove both shackles, he noticed a small table next to his cot, with a folded sweatsuit waiting for him. Deciding he didn't want to face whatever awaited him naked, he pulled the clothing under the blanket and clothed himself. Feeling a little better, he put his feet on the ground and stood up.

He felt a little wobbly, like being a little buzzed. Putting one hand on the table to steady himself, he took stock of his injuries. Along with a killer headache and his wounded wrist, there was a massive bruise on his stomach, bruising on the side of his head and his mouth was very dry. Still, he didn't feel all that bad considering that he had had his ass handed to him.

"_How long ago?"_ He wondered. It was just something he'd have to figure out.

Looking up, he could see that the shed's open wall bordered on a neatly trimmed lawn, measuring perhaps six meters by four. A chain-link fence, roughly three meters high, bordered the lawn. Two chairs and a small table sat in the middle of the lawn. A man sat in one of the chairs, calmly watching him.

The same man that had overpowered him!

"I assume you speak English," the man said. "Otherwise you probably wouldn't have been able to rent that apartment. What's your name?"

He looked around for an escape. There was a gate behind the man but getting to it would mean getting by _him_. Could he…

"Son," the man said, interrupting his thoughts. "You couldn't handle me last night, while you were embracing the wolf. There's no way you're going to be able to handle me now. You don't know where you're at and I've got a whole lot of kin close at hand. Why don't we handle this calm and friendly? Come here, have a seat and I'll get that thing out of your arm." The man's voice was surprisingly kindly. Of course, that didn't mean anything.

Still, he had a point. He was caught so he might as well find out what was happening. He walked outside and took the other chair, opposite his…adversary? The man produced a pair of pliers and motioned for him to extend his hand. He did so, noticing a pitcher full of what smelled like blood, and a pair of tumblers, on the table.

"I'll ask again, you have a name?" The man asked, removing the bolts that held the needle to the shackle.

"Herzl," he answered. "And you're correct, I speak English, but not all that well."

"You just left Europe, didn't you?" The man asked. Herzl nodded.

"Well Herzl, look away, it'll go easier."

Herzl complied and felt a momentary flash of intense pain, when his captor yanked the silver needle out of his wrist. Soon, the man had the shackle completely off. While Herzl clutched his wounded wrist, the man picked up the pitcher and poured two glasses. He took one and offered the other to his…guest? Herzl didn't move.

"You're probably wondering why I'm meeting you like this," the man said, when Herzl didn't move. "Well, by sitting out here, in broad daylight, it should be pretty clear that I'm no blood."

"You're an elder, aren't you?" Herzl asked.

"It's a title I carry. You can refer to me that way, most around here do."

"I beg forgiveness for my manners, elder," Herzl apologized. "But I don't know…" he motioned around the fenced in yard.

"You don't know how much trouble you're in," John finished for him. Herzl nodded.

"Son, I know a few things that are going through your mind and I'll give you some free advice. Right now, your arm hurts like hell, your head feels like it's stuffed full of cotton and your mouth tastes like a chicken coop. If I were you, I'd do the smart thing and take the blood. Whatever fate's waiting for you, you'll face it better healed and whole."

Herzl took the advice, and the offering. The beef blood cleared his head and took the dry feeling out of his mouth. Moments later, he could feel the wound in his right wrist healing. His host refilled his glass and sipped his own drink. Now that he had taken the edge off of his need, Herzl was able to follow suit, feeling much better. He now looked at the shackle on his left wrist.

"That one's going to stay," John informed him. "It's not fair, but that's the way of the world. Now, you're probably wondering what's going on but, as the elder, I'm going to ask the questions first and I'm going to start now. Tell me, where did you come from?"

"_My mother, of course,"_ Herzl was tempted to say but decided that he was in a very bad position to mouth off. Instead, he answered truthfully, "Hungary."

"Why'd you leave?" John asked. "Don't try to lie to me, it's pretty obvious that you cleared out quick."

"The war went crazy," Herzl admitted. "Lucian had some sort of plan, he kept saying that we were going to wipe out the bloods. He was meeting with some blood higher-up and was also trying to track down some Michael Coldpens, or some such. He managed to kill Amelia, then the bloods raided our den."

"Why didn't you head for another den?" John asked him. "There must be plenty of them around Hungary."

"Something changed," Herzl told him. "One of the bloods' elders was in on the raid and he killed Raze. Then Lucian's plan worked out and the Michael guy turned into…something. He wasn't one of the pack and he wasn't one of the bloods, but some kind of combination. He fought the elder and the elder was about to kill him when one of the Death Dealers, Selene, killed the elder. Selene and Michael left, together. I was one of the last of the pack left and I found Lucian's body. I figured all hell was about to break loose so I jumped on the first barge I could find, on the Danube. Once I reached the Black Sea, I jumped a freighter and wound up in New York."

"So Lucian's dead," John murmured. "That's too bad, he was a good man. He might have had some different ideas than I did, but it's still too bad. Anyway, why didn't you stay in New York?"

"I didn't know my way around and I didn't want the bloods to catch me. I could also smell a pack member or two, so I didn't want to get caught in another war. I found a train heading west and jumped on. I hopped a couple more trains and got off where you found me." Herzl answered then paused. "Elder, you knew Lucian?"

"We were in the bloods' slave pens together," John told him, his eyes growing vague as he remembered unpleasant times. "Back then, not all of us could embrace and release the wolf at will. The bloods were using us to fight our more…uncontrolled…cousins. Lucian thought that if we just served well enough, the bloods would embrace us as kin and we would all live together."

"Too bad it didn't work out that way," John shook his head. "When it became obvious that the bloods would never consider us equals, he changed his stance completely and decided to crush them. I didn't agree, so I left before we came to blows." The elder chuckled. "When I decided to leave, the door I walked out happened to face west, so that's the direction I went. I just kept going and finally wound up in Spain. I don't know how many years went by before I heard of the conquistadors but when I heard about the New World, I figured I'd be free of both the pack and the bloods if I went there. I joined a ship's crew, jumped ship in what's now Mexico and headed north."

"Enough of the history lesson," John decided. "Where'd you get the money to rent the apartment?"

"I rolled a couple of muggers in New York," Herzl answered. "They didn't know what to do when their bullets and blades didn't stop me."

"Tell me, Herzl," Tom's eyes were intent. "Why did you feed on cattle? Why didn't you try to form your own pack?"

"I don't want trouble with the bald sheep," the younger man answered. "I wanted to look around, see what was up, before doing anything like that."

"Okay, son, fair enough," the elder told him. "You just might fit in here. Now, the first thing you're going to have to learn is that around here, humans aren't bald sheep. They're people, just like us. Now that you've answered my questions, it's time I let you know what you've gotten yourself into."

"You've already figured out that I'm one of your kind. The truth is that I've been on this continent for just over four centuries and I've led this pack for a little over three. We don't deal with the bloods and the mortals the same way the European Packs do, which is why I left Europe so long ago."

"Our goal is to make sure that neither the bloods, nor the mortals, ever figure out that we're here," John continued. "We go out of our way to blend in, to look just like the mortals around us. Whenever we wind up with a new one of us, whether it's from birth or bite, we bring the pup here, to mature. Once the pup gets to the point where he or she can control the wolf inside, we set them up for life away from here. I'm not going to say how many of us are to be found, but we've got packmates, kinsmen and kinswomen, all over the place, living all walks of life. We have members flipping burgers at fast-food restaurants, building homes, working assembly lines, flying airliners, and performing surgery. You name it, we're probably doing it, unless it calls attention on a national scale."

"Obviously, we have to shuffle everybody around," John informed Herzl. "After someone lives at a particular location for between ten and twenty years, we move them, so nobody wonders why they aren't aging. We've infiltrated governments enough to produce false ID's and other credentials, so we've managed to avoid suspicion."

"But what happens if the bloods find you out?" Herzl asked. "All of your sneaking and hiding will be over. They'll just waltz in here and wipe you out."

"Son, it isn't a matter of _if_ they'll find us, it's a matter of _when_," John told him. "And we're ready for them. Don't think that trades and education are the only things we learn; everybody puts in some time in the military and we don't go for 'just good enough'. Those of us who go into the Army wind up in the airborne, rangers and green berets. The Marines wind up in force recon. Those in the Navy wind up in the seals. Once our cubs become mature enough to _not_ embrace the wolf under stress, we send them off for toughening up. When they come back, they drill those of us who haven't been in for awhile. When the bloods find us, we're going to wipe out the party they send, then we're going to scatter and vanish again. That's where I disagreed with Lucian; first he wanted to live alongside the bloods, then he wanted to destroy them. I just want to live and avoid them."

"So you'll help me control my temper?" Herzl asked the older man.

"It isn't easy, but it's possible. You saw me last night, you jumped me and I stayed furless. You can learn the same."

"Then I place myself under you leadership, elder," Herzl stood and bowed his head.

"Good to hear, I'll show you where you'll be staying."

"Er…elder?" Herzl prompted. "This other shackle…"

"You haven't earned our trust yet," John told him. "That little bracelet holds a radio receiver. The transmitter is somewhere on this ranch."

"So what happens if I get out of range of the transmitter?"

"If you get too far from the transmitter, or if you try too hard to take that thing off, it will fire a .22 caliber, silver bullet into your arm and sound an alarm. With the silver in you, you won't be able to embrace the wolf. I don't take chances when I'm guarding my kin."

* * *

"C'mon, I feel all alone here! Come into the city with me, just for a few hours."

"I really should be concentrating on my duties," Tanis told Erika.

"Oh, please! You've been cramped in that monastery of yours for centuries. Stretch your legs a little. I've finished my chores and my escort's large enough for both of us. We both have some money so lets have a good time. It'll be good for you."

"Well, I am ahead of things," Tanis allowed. "So maybe I can…"

"Live a little," Erika finished for him, seizing his arm with both of hers. Moments later, the blonde practically dragged the historian out of the mansion, accompanied by several younger members of the New World Coven. The same cab driver that had given Erika her ride to the mansion gave them a ride to Bourbon Street. For a few minutes, Tanis wondered at the cab driver cover, wondering if there was a sinister application to his public persona then decided that tonight wasn't the night to worry about it. Besides, he could always check the records.

Erika quickly distracted him from his suspicions, not that he had any problem with what he suspected the coven was using the cab for, by seizing his arm yet again and sidling up to him in a most disturbing manner. "You have to check out this little spot," she gushed, leading him into an alley.

Tanis followed along wondering how he could still be so distracted by a perky young woman after being dead for over six centuries. The European pair followed one of their hosts down a stairwell and into a dark room. Several other vampires sat in comfortable chairs, sipping small blood drinks. A sheet of one-way glass dominated one wall, through which the vampires observed what appeared to be a popular bar, full of humans.

"Tanis, Erika," Tanis recognized one of the Death Dealers who had been present at his interrogation. "Welcome to our little tavern. Sorry about how I had to treat you the other night, so I'd like to treat you to the first round, just to show there's no hard feelings. My name's Gary, by the way."

"First round?" Tanis shook Gary's hand, even though he was confused.

"You're going to love what they've done here," Erika told him. "The humans on the other side of the wall think that there's some kind of weird cult here. They drink, get their blood-alcohol level up, then the coven pays them for a donation."

"The result is actually intoxicating," Gary informed the historian. "Now, I know that the science says that all alcohol is the same, once a human metabolizes it, but I say that a healthy, young man, who has drunk his blood-alcohol content to .08% on Jack Daniels, makes for the best consumption."

"I'll trust in your choice," Tanis told him. His new friend just smiled and motioned for the server. "Were there places like this in Europe? Tanis asked Erika.

"Not that I knew about," she told him, having already obtained her own drink (twenty-four year old woman, red wine, .12%). The blonde vampire was swaying; dancing to the music that infused both the human and vampire taverns.

"I wonder if such an establishment would be profitable," Tanis mused.

"Forget it for tonight!" Erika insisted. "Have fun!"

The server brought Tanis's drink at that time, and his first sip seemed to go straight to his brain. "_I'm going to have to watch my consumption,"_ he decided, as he allowed Erika to draw him out onto the dance floor. The music was lively and he found himself enjoying moving to the rhythm.

"Unwind," Erika told him, catching his free arm to guide his steps. "This is FUN! Haven't you ever danced before?"

"Remember, my dear," he quipped, after taking another sip. "The last time I managed to get out and socialize in public, popular music was played on lutes, sackbuts and violins."

Erika simply giggled and said, "then I have a lot to teach you, don't I?" The two Europeans polished off their drinks, allowing Erika to teach Tanis the fine art of dirty dancing before returning to Gary's table. The American Death Dealer proved to be a surprisingly gracious, if a little boisterous, host. Eventually, the conversation turned into an effort to establish mutual acquaintances.

"So you were Selene's roommate?" Gary asked Erika. "I met her a couple of times. I hope she's still around."

"I didn't realize that Selene had visited the New World," Tanis pointed out, noting the sour expression on Erika's face.

"She didn't," Gary answered. "Amelia offered her the position of Chief Death Dealer in the New World Coven, but Selene refused out of loyalty to Victor. Instead, Amelia sent a couple of us to apprentice under her. Selene might not have been much for polite conversation or enjoying herself but she was a damn good Death Dealer. Not only that, she did her best to teach her charges and keep them alive. If I'm ever half the Death Dealer that she was, I'll be damn proud of it." The burly vampire shook his head, "it's sad, really."

"What's that?" Erika asked him.

"Selene's attitude," Gary told her. "The only things she ever cared about were killing lycans and supporting Victor. I'm not saying that these were terrible goals but for pity's sake, what's the point in living forever if you don't enjoy yourself?"

"Here, here," Tanis agreed. "And on that note, the next round's on me." As soon as Gary ordered the next round, Tanis decided to take advantage of the conversation to ask a few questions.

"So, have you benefited from Selene's education, here in North America?" Tanis asked Gary.

"A little," Gary admitted. "We don't have much of a lycan presence here. I have no doubt that there are a few individuals but they aren't organized. I've only managed to take out four of them here and that gives me the highest kill count." He snorted, "I killed more lycans in five years in Europe than I have in over a century in North America."

"So you don't perform lycan sweeps?" Tanis prompted.

"We can't find anything to sweep," Gary chuckled. "We spend plenty of time hunting for them, tracking down sightings and rumors, but we hardly ever find anything. Our SOP is to head out to investigate a sighting, then discover that some redneck had a few too many and saw a big dog, or something. Oh, we find a lycan every once in a great while, so we keep on our toes."

"Hey, why are we talking shop?" Erika demanded. "All of us are off duty, so why don't we sample some of this establishment's other offerings? Alcohol isn't the only spice to a mortal's blood, you know."

"What else do they add?" Tanis asked. "Opiates? Amphetamines?"

He was slightly disturbed by his companions' snickers.

* * *

_A/N:_

_Once again, I must thank everyone who has read my tale to this point. I hope you're enjoying the show. Thanks again to my beta, Joe Stoppinghem. _

_Until my next update, best wishes,_

_daccu65_


	5. Chapter 5, A Rough Day

Chapter 5: A Rough Day All Around

Tanis awoke to a pounding headache. "_My first hangover in centuries_," he concluded. "_Congratulations to me."_

He was very uncomfortable, sprawled in bed in a very unnatural posture. The whole idea of moving nauseated him so he spent several minutes trying to organize his scattered, fuzzy thoughts. He remembered the bar, a civil and interesting talk with Gary, dancing with Erika, the intoxicating blood drinks and then…

And then he remembered the other method the New World Vampires had come up with to put some spice into their blood drinks. While the tavern shared a wall with a human bar, it also shared two more walls with mortal entertainment establishments. One of these establishments was a strip club, which boasted some rather attractive and…flexible…young women performing highly erotic dance moves. The other establishment was also a strip club and it featured some rather well-built and…vigorous…young men performing some interesting moves of their own.

He remembered Gary telling him that the vampires purchased blood from these establishments' clients and that the hormones in the blood could be quite…stirring. He remembered Gary offering to purchase the Europeans a round and Erika urging him to accept the offer. He remembered that he had consumed enough of the alcohol-laced blood to make this seem like a good idea…

He remembered the cab ride home, with him and Erika pawing at each other as if their bodies were covered with erotic, Braille writings. He remembered the cab taking them to the back door, away from the more senior coven members' quarters. He remembered them stumbling to his room, since his station warranted a small, yet unshared, room. Then…

Tanis opened his eyes the slightest crack and confirmed why he was so uncomfortable. He and Erika were sprawled in his bed, their limbs intertwined to the point that they resembled a pair of wrestling squid. The sight brought his memories rushing back and he actually felt himself blushing. He had indulged in his share…okay, more than his share of hedonistic pleasures. The companions he had lost to Selene had been most…capable. Yet somehow, charged up on a mortal's hormones, last day had been…intense. He shook his head, not knowing if he intended the gesture to banish the memories or make them more clear. This motion woke his companion.

Erika looked confused for just a moment, then recognition flooded her eyes and she smiled at him. "I told you that you needed to live a little," she told him.

Her voice forced him to flinch again. How was she able to recover so quickly? She had drunk every bit as much as he had, had indulged in the same intense, horizontal activities yet, she seemed ready for another round while he was trying to find the energy to sit up.

"You have me at a disadvantage," he told her, forcing himself to a sitting position and holding his head. He didn't know if he should attribute his greater degree of incapacitation to his several centuries' greater age or his gender. In his experience, the female always seemed to draw energy from such dalliances, while he always felt drained.

"Oh, poor baby," she snickered with false pity as she hopped out of bed and started to dress. "You enjoyed yourself and you'll be fine after an evening feed and a shower. Now, get moving! If you aren't able to meet your duties, the regent might not let us do this again."

With that said, she kissed his cheek, giggled, and pranced out of the room, clearly putting some extra wiggle her hips. Tanis simply smiled in painful amazement, then catching a whiff of his own scent, decided that a shower had precedence over breakfast.

Forty-five minutes later, he was feeling much better. The shower had cleared his head and his breakfast had renewed his energy. He was at his post in the archive room, translating his own histories and entering recent events. He decided that Lecoq must have been a sailor at some time. The regent didn't keep a history so much as he maintained an activity log. Tanis was quite pleased with this as he now had access to a great deal of information. In Tanis's considerable experience, information equated to power.

A polite knock at his door interrupted his study of some…intriguing…lycan searches.

"Enter," he called, relishing the fact that the light knock didn't sound like someone using his head as a base drum. The door opened to admit a smirking Gary.

"Come to see the damage you've caused?" Tanis asked, although he had a smile on his face. Now that he'd recovered from his outing's less pleasant aftereffects, he found that he had truly enjoyed himself. In fact, he was hoping for a repeat in a couple of nights.

"Partly that and partly business," the burly vampire replied, in a friendly tone. "I should have warned you that the effects of both alcohol and hormones seem to be magnified. Although," here, the Death Dealer's smirk became a full-out leer. "You seemed to enjoy yourself."

"More than I have in centuries," Tanis confirmed. He surprised himself by feeling honest friendship for the fellow who had…gotten him drunk and laid. "What's the business?"

"A couple of days ago, a rental car drove by the mansion a couple of times," Gary told him, gesturing for Tanis to follow him. "It happens all the time, tourists get lost and have a hard time finding their way out of the neighborhood. It's just that…well…with the chaos in Europe, I'd like you to take a look at the car, just in case it's someone you can recognize."

"It would be a very powerful vampire who could drive during the day," Tanis quipped, following him into a small office, which contained several computer terminals.

"Maybe," Gary replied. "Or maybe our European kin have learned to walk the daylight. Anyway, I want you to take a look at this." Gary manipulated a couple of controls, causing the image of a mid-sized car to appear on one of the monitors. The image started to move, showing the vehicle driving past the mansion. As it reached a point almost beneath the camera, Gary froze the image.

"There," he said, pointing at the passenger. "Is that who I think it is?"

Tanis was dumbfounded. It was impossible! Marcus was trailing Selene, there was no way she could escape or, even more unthinkable, defeat the rampaging elder. As for the driver…yes, it just might be that…thing…that the Death Dealer had taken up with.

"It sure looks like her," Tanis admitted, stalling for time while his thoughts raged. "But how could she be out in the daylight? I mean, it was daylight when this footage was recorded, wasn't it?"

"Yes," Gary nodded. "We don't have the technical staff, or the resources, that were once found in Ordoghaz, so I don't know what our European kin had in the works. Were they working on a method to walk in the sun? Perhaps something similar to a mortal's sun-block?"

"It would have to be an interesting sun-block," Tanis commented. "Because it would have to go into the eyes, as well as the skin. It's possible they were either working on it, or had commissioned experiments, but they would have kept me ignorant."

"Why?" Gary looked dumfounded. "Weren't you the historian…the record keeper?"

"Yes," Tanis replied, with a dry tone. "And everybody loves someone who's successful. When my…more liberated kin developed synthetic blood, they didn't let me know until after they had perfected the stuff. It wouldn't do for someone to read the histories, six centuries from now, and realize that a respected elder needed forty-six tries to get it right! If our kin were working on some form of…sun-shield, they wouldn't have let me know until after it was functional."

"So, is that Selene?"

"Let's work on the assumption that it is," Tanis told his companion, suddenly coming to a decision. "And that could mean big trouble."

"How's that?"

"Has Lecoq briefed you on my…debriefing?"

"Of course."

"Then you know that she killed Victor. Marcus was pursuing her and we haven't heard from him since, but here she is."

"So she probably destroyed Marcus, as well?"

"That would be my guess," Tanis shrugged. "Now, she also told me that Amelia was dead. According to Erika, Kraven might have been plotting with the lycans that killed Amelia _**and**_ Kraven was infatuated with Selene. Not to mention, her companion is a lycan." Just a small lie, but it should add to the suspicion.

"So she's involved with all three elders' deaths," Gary mused. "I have to report this to the regent. I think he'll want to question her."

"Be careful," Tanis offered. "She's dangerous and her companion is tougher than any lycan I've ever dealt with."

"We will be," Gary assured him, walking out of his office. "We won't be able to do anything tonight, but maybe we can start searching tomorrow evening."

As soon as the Death Dealer left, Tanis ran to his own office and began to quickly, carefully review records on North American lycan hunts.

* * *

"Okay, I can tell that at least a dozen vampires have passed this way," Michael muttered to Selene, as they strolled down Bourbon Street.

"That isn't exactly new information," his companion told him. "Can't you do any better than that?"

"I've got the nose, but I don't have the experience using it," he protested. "I don't recognize any of them but they seem to be…converging as we continue this direction.

"Okay, that is something," Selene complimented him. "They must have some sort of den, recreational facility or spy post down this way."

"I can't tell if they're relaxed or on edge," Michael admitted. At Selene's odd look, he explained. "Individuals react to stress with differing levels of sweat and adrenaline. It's sort of like reading someone's voice and body language. One person might get excited, jittery and squeaky voiced just at the thought of going to a wild party. The next person might face a firing squad and not even stutter. Since I don't know the individual vampires, I don't have a read for how stressed they are."

"Take a wild guess," she instructed.

"Okay, I'd say that they're showing slightly elevated adrenaline levels, kind of like they're anticipating an enjoyable experience."

"We'll have to see if your guess is accurate. It's almost a shame that Lucian isn't still around, he would have been able to teach you a great deal about your lycan traits."

"You still hate the lycans, don't you?"

"I'm not going to be able to just discard multiple lifetimes of my beliefs overnight," she sighed. "Still, you have to admit that the vampires live among the humans with less disruption."

"Why do you say that?"

"Remember your first transformation? Didn't you say that you would have gone on a rampage if the other two lycans hadn't sedated you? Didn't you say that you were at the point of attacking everyone in the tavern, back in Hungary?"

"You may have a point," he acknowledged. "But I remember someone telling me, from her experience, that I should keep the synthetic stuff on hand so I wouldn't attack normal humans. Doesn't that suggest that vampires go through the same bloodlust, at least after they turn?"

"We shouldn't be discussing this in public," Selene declared. "For now, the idea is to spot any of the coven and exchange a few words."

"Right," Michael stopped and leaned against a building, making a show of tying his shoe. He listened for a few moments then whispered to Selene, "I think we should duck over to that cab, really quick, say that we're going to the Garden District and ask if we can catch a ride with the couple that's getting in."

"Why?"

"Because that's where they asked the cab to take them, the cab driver's a vampire, the young lady is as well, but the drunk, young man with her isn't."

For a moment, Selene considered not getting involved; after all, she wasn't some sort of defender of humanity. Then, she realized that this would give her an excellent lead in to the coven.

"C'mon," she snarled at her companion, dragging him towards the cab. "Are you going to the…Garden…District?" She asked the cabdriver, stressing her European accent. "We want to go there and we do not want to waste time waiting for another cab."

Selene caught the slight look between the cabdriver and the 'young woman'; she also spotted the nearly imperceptible nod that the girl gave the driver. Selene knew what she must be thinking, why have a light snack when you can have a three course meal for the same price?

"That's where we're going," the girl declared. "Hop on in, we'll share the fare."

The other couple took the van's rear seat, placing Selene and Michael in the middle seat. The cabdriver closed the doors, started off, then spoke quietly into his microphone. Selene was shocked when Michael leaned over and started nuzzling her hear. She was about to push him away when he began to speak.

"The cabbie just said that he has two extra passengers," he whispered into her ear. "That wouldn't be unusual but he stressed that the extras were in the middle seat."

Message received; someone wanted to know exactly where the two additional victims would be located. Selene wasn't familiar with the city, but she had a good sense of direction and had looked at a few maps. They weren't heading towards the garden district; they were heading towards the warehouse district. She squeezed Michael's thigh, her way of telling him to get ready.

"Hey, where're we goin?" The young man in back slurred. "This don' look like the Garen Disric."

"It's a shortcut," the cabbie replied. "I'll have y'all there in a moment."

Sure enough, a bay door opened in one of the buildings ahead of them. The cabbie turned off of the street and into the dark vehicle bay. As soon as the bay door closed, the building's interior lights came on. Four men surrounded the van as the driver bailed out of the driver's door. In the back seat, the young lady incapacitated her victim.

The four assailants yanked the doors open and seized their victims. Selene played the part of a terrified, drunk bimbo and struggled feebly as they pulled her out of the van. Once they had her partway out, and her feet were on the vehicles running board, she struck. She and Michael didn't have firearms; they hadn't been able to carry them on the commercial flight and they didn't want their forged identifications placed under the scrutiny that purchasing handguns would have caused. Selene had, however, managed to obtain a combat knife.

Selene launched herself and one of her assailants, driving her forehead into his nose as she slashed the other one's belly. She kept moving forward, ignoring the one that she had lacerated while she concentrated on the one directly in front of her. He was staggering back and Selene followed up her advantage, first driving a knee into his groin then upper cutting his chin. Realizing that she had left her other opponent on his own for too long, she dropped into a deep crouch and spun, sweeping the first man's feet outfrom under him. She continued to spin, facing the other thug.

She returned her attention to him just in time. He lurched forward, holding his wound with one hand while he aimed a powerful kick and the crouching Death Dealer. Selene managed a shallow crouch-hop over the oncoming foot and threw herself into a forward roll, lashing out with one foot as she did so. Her kick caught her adversary on his wound, driving him back long enough for her to regain her feet.

The thug came on again, lashing his fist out in a semi-skilled strike. Unfortunately for him, the punch that would have proven fatal to most humans was embarrassingly easy for the skilled, immortal fighter to counter. Selene blocked the punch with her off-hand and slashed her knife across his exposed biceps. The thug showed his lack of skill, clutching his wound instead of concentrating on his opponent. Selene took the opportunity to open up his shoulder, which prompted him to clutch that wound as well.

He looked almost comical, with his left hand clutching his right biceps and his right had clutching his left shoulder, until Selene's heel collapsed his face. The Death Dealer looked across the van, ready to help Michael. She didn't need to bother.

As the two thugs on his side of the van tore the door open, Michael shifted into his hybrid form, an act that completely freaked the vampire in the rear seat. The two assailants, however, weren't paying close attention to what they had seized. They simply hauled him out, contemplating a good meal. Michael disabused them of that notion by lashing out with one clawed hand, lacerating his shocked assailant's chest and sending him sprawling back against what Michael could now see was a workbench.

"_So this is some sort of maintenance garage_," the hybrid thought, turning his head as the other vampire caught him with a straight punch to his jaw.

"_I wonder if the coven owns this facility, or if whoever owns the place knows what they're using it for_," he contemplated, catching his second opponent's next punch in his palm. The vampire's expression shifted from rage to shocked fear as Michael effortlessly spun him around and smashed him against the van. Holding him with one hand, Michael raked his claws across the back of the would-be predator's knees, cutting the hamstrings.

"_I'm supposed to be a doctor,_" the hybrid mused. "_So why am I using my anatomical knowledge to cripple, rather than heal?"_ His musings were cut short when he spotted the driver fleeing the van. Michael launched himself over the van, his hybrid strength allowing him to land on the immortal, tackle and subdue him.

Michael looked up to see Selene standing near her two incapacitated opponents. "The girl!" She snapped, after showing a moment of relief that he was well. The two immortals rushed back to the van, with Michael dragging the driver behind him, to see the female vampire staring at them in terror.

"Restrain the others," Selene snarled to Michael. "We need to get some information."

"How gently?" He asked.

"Not at all."

"Great, I have an idea," with that, Michael drug the feebly struggling driver to the workbench, grabbed a handful of screwdrivers, then dragged the vampire back to the van. Selene, in the meantime, had pulled the female vampire out of the van and had her pinned on the garage's floor.

"_She's playing tough,"_ Michael realized, which went along perfectly with his idea for immobilizing their assailants. Michael held the terrified, gibbering vampire's lower arm against the van's side then, with a quick movement, the impaled his victim's forearm, stabbing the screwdriver between the radius and ulna and through the side of the van. Michael reached inside the van and bent the screwdriver's blade, pinning the driver to the side of the vehicle.

"_Nice move,"_ Selene thought, finding it ironic that she would play _the 'bad guy_' to Michael's '_worse guy'_. "So, you just decided to lure a drunk in for a little snack? Who are you bribing to look the other way?"

"Wha…who…what are you?" The girl demanded.

"I'm asking the questions here!" Selene punctuated her statement by bouncing her captive's head off of the floor. "Now, I can't believe that your regent would approve of this, so you're bribing someone to look the other way. Who is it?"

The girl looked on in awed horror as Michael dragged another of the vampires to the van and pinned him, as well. "What about the human?" He asked. Then, he leaned extremely close to Selene and whispered. "Tanis has been in that van, in the last couple of days."

"We'll leave the drunk someplace," Selene told him, nodding at his latest information. "He was drunk enough that he won't have clear memories. He'll just think that he got rolled." Selene glared back down at her victim. "But this little girl's going to get pinned as well, if she doesn't start talking."

When Michael pinned the third vampire to the van, the 'bait' vampire found her tongue and started to talk. In fact, she became so talkative that Selene had to cut her off in order to give her and Michael enough time to leave the garage before daylight and give themselves enough time to dump the human in an alley, near a bar.

* * *

_A/N: As always my fondest thanks to anyone who has taken the time to read the story to this point, especially those who have taken the time to leave a review. A note if I could, I reply to all non-annonymous reviews. If you would like to discuss my canon errors or assumptions I've made, please don't review annonymously. I honestly appreciate the opportunity to discuss my stories and improve my work. Straightforward discussions make my writing better, and that makes the reading experience better._

_Again, thanks to Joe Stoppinghem for beta reading._

_Until my next update, best wishes,_

_daccu65_


	6. Chapter 6, Time to Move

Chapter 6: Time to Move

"So what's your problem?" Erika demanded. It's not that she minded being pulled away from her cleaning duties. Also, she liked the idea of Tanis dragging her away from the duties but instead of…dallying…he was talking about some kind of disaster.

"It's Selene and that Michael character she was with," Tanis explained, calling up the camera footage on his computer. "They're here, in New Orleans and they're both out in the daylight!"

"Michael's a lycan," the blonde vampire pointed out. "Or didn't you know that?"

"He's no lycan," Tanis retorted. "I don't know exactly what he is, but it isn't a lycan. Anyway, do you have any idea how Selene can be out in the daylight?"

"No clue," Erika snarled, still feeling a great deal of animosity towards the brunette. "Why would she be here?"

"The same reason we're here," Tanis informed her. "She's looking for a home and she's thinking of this coven. If she's about to move in, I think it's about time for us to move out."

"Why?"

Tanis took a deep breath, "Because I know too much. Selene doesn't much care for me and the best way for her to ingratiate herself with this coven will be to finger me as the elders' betrayer."

"Okay, that's a reason for you to flee, why me?"

"First, I don't think you'll like to live in the same mansion as her. Second, you're going to be…tainted…by your association with Kraven. Finally, I don't think that her…introduction…to the coven is going to be peaceful. There's going to be violence and chaos. Neither one of us is a fighter, so we'd both be better off well away from here and two have a better chance to survive than one."

"You really think it's going to go south?"

"My dear, I've lived through a few upheavals and while I haven't always managed to improve my position, I've always managed to survive. Trust me on this, if Selene and her pet clash with the coven, our particular society is going to experience an upheaval. The best way to benefit is to be aware of the confrontation but away from the battlefield. Now, I'm going to flee within the next fifteen minutes. I would truly like to have you with me, both as a conspirator and as a companion, but if I have to fly solo, I will."

"Where will we go?"

"I've taken the liberty of mapping out all of the coven's safehouses, stockpiles and other assets," Tanis explained. "My position as historian gave me access to a great deal of information. Now, I'm not going to tell you everything until you're a little more committed, but I have a general escape path and a series of hideouts plotted out."

Erika thought about her situation for several, endless minutes. She had a safe and interesting, if not luxurious life but would Selene change it? Her years as the Death Dealer's roommate had made her realize that the two lived in very different worlds. Selene lived in a world of duty, violence and vengeance, while Erika lived in a world of style, intrigue and socialization. Sure, she and the Death Dealer had never experienced a direct rivalry, but that made Kraven's preference even more unbearable.

Then there were Tanis's warnings to consider. Erika wasn't much of a history buff, even coven history, but she knew that there were precious few vampires as old as Tanis and Selene, and that lycans and accidents couldn't account for all of the apparent deaths. She had no doubt that had she not fled after Kraven dismissed her, she would have met her fate when Marcus destroyed Ordoghaz. Now, Tanis was telling her that such events happened whenever the immortals experienced a power shift.

Could Selene's presence be about to trigger another such shift? It seemed likely; Victor and Amelia were gone and Selene's presence suggested that Marcus was gone, as well. Throw in the fact that the senior vampires were wondering what had become of the Cleaners and you had the entire immortal society at a dangerous point. Erika was no fighter, like Tanis said she would be better off distancing herself from the upcoming conflict, then insinuating herself into the winning organization.

"I'm in," she said.

"Excellent," he assured her. "You have fifteen minutes to pack whatever you can fit in one bag, then meet me down in the parking level."

"Fifteen min…" she stammered. "Where are we going? The sun will be up in five hours!"

"And our first sanctuary is four hours away, by car," he smirked. "That's why you only have fourteen minutes." The historian took on an almost fatherly expression. "You've fled from your emotions, my dear, but you've never fled for your life. I've done so. Trust me, it's best to get moving as fast as you can."

* * *

"You're sure about this?" Michael asked.

"Of course not," his companion answered him, with a scowl. "But I don't think we have any other choice. We lucked into discovering the little poaching operation, that will give us a little bit of leverage when we present ourselves to the regent…Lecoq."

"Is that going to be enough?"

"Probably not," the two got out of their rental car, four blocks from the mansion, and continued on foot. "But they gave us something to work with."

"They didn't seem like they were very high up," Michael protested. "How would they know everything that they told us?"

"Michael," Selene sighed, with an honestly fond expression on her face. "The senior coven members discuss these issues during their meetings and they like to be comfortable while doing so. That little vixen was sort of like a cocktail waitress, so she overheard a great deal of supposedly secret coven business. The rest of them were also servants: drivers, gardeners, handymen and mechanics. The senior vampires don't even think of their drivers when they discuss business during a ride. They don't think of the server when they discuss such business over drinks." She shook her head, "if you were to put all of the little snippets that the world's assorted bellhops, doormen, receptionists and bartenders overhear, there wouldn't be such a thing as a secret."

"Okay, so we know that the coven thinks that Marcus and Alexander are dead, but they're not sure. They've sent a part to Europe to confirm this, but the party hasn't found any evidence one way or the other."

"We also know that Mr. Lecoq is very anxious," Selene added. "The European immortals are still fighting each other and nobody is cleaning up the aftermath anymore. Some mortal authorities are starting to come across very disturbing evidence. So far, they're keeping it quiet, in an effort to avoid a panic, but it can't stay under wraps forever."

"This could be very bad," Michael informed her, as they strode through the midnight streets. "If the immortals' existence became known to the general public…"

"There could be a racial war," Selene finished for him. "Mortals versus immortals, with the immortal races also fighting each other. I don't think the immortals could survive such a confrontation. The mortals have us outnumbered and outgunned."

"Mortal society would be in trouble, as well," Michael informed her. "And it wouldn't be just from the immortals. This could turn into a worldwide witch-hunt. It could make the worst race-crimes seem like a polite debate."

"So we better see what we can do," Selene told him. "And we better start here." She gestured toward the mansion, which was now only a block away. Selene surprised Michael by seizing him and kissing him with an intensity the younger man had only experienced when they…"

"What was that for?" He gasped, after catching his breath.

"I don't know what we're about to run into," she informed him. "If we don't come out of there alive, I want to die with your taste in my mouth."

With that, the enigmatic Death Dealer turned and marched to the mansion's main gate. It only took her a moment to find a call button.

"State your business, please," a polite voice announced from the speaker.

"We're coven members from Hungary," Selene replied. It was only partially a lie. "We have information that may be of interest to Mr. Lecoq."

"Please wait a moment."

"Smile for the camera," Michael told her. Both immortals looked directly into the camera. The time for secrecy had passed.

Several minutes passed, as Selene expected. No doubt, the previously bored guard was telling his commander, who would take a look before telling the head Death Dealer. The head Death Dealer would want to take a look before interrupting the regent, who would want to take a look and discuss things with his guards before deciding weather or not to admit the strangers. Then, the regent would take some time to arrange either a reception, an ambush, or quite possibly both. All in all, nearly fifteen minutes passed before two figures emerged from the house and approached the gate.

"Please follow me," one of them told the visitors, as the gate swung open. The one who spoke turned and walked back towards the mansion while the other one fell in behind Selene and Michael. The party remained silent, and no other souls were evident, as the four walked across the yard and to the mansion's front door. The lead vampire opened one of the doors and motioned the others inside. A third vampire awaited them inside the foyer.

"I'm afraid that I must ask you to leave all weapons here," he informed them, opening a fine chest.

"A reasonable precaution," Selene nodded. "These are troubled times." She slowly pulled her two knives out of their hidden sheaths and set them in the chest. Michael followed suit with the pistol they had obtained the previous night, from the poaching party.

"That's all you have?" The third vampire asked with a bit of suspicion creeping into his polite voice.

"I'm sure you're going to search us anyway," Selene replied, with the barest touch of a smile. "So you'll be able to confirm this for yourself."

The third vampire smiled and offered a slight bow, before producing a wand-style metal detector. Running it over the guests (or were they prisoners?) he located Sonja's pendant and Michael's keys. Both times, when the detector squawked, the other two vampires tensed up. Selene caught Michael flaring his nostrils, slightly. His meaning was clear, the vampires were on edge and he could smell their nervous sweat.

"There will be one, last test," the greeter, or so Selene had mentally dubbed him, informed them. The other coven members backed slightly away and slid their hands into their clothing. Selene had no doubt that they were clutching weapons at this time.

"Extend a hand, both of you," The greeter instructed, producing a burnished needle. When the strangers did so, he plunged the blade into Michael's thumb.

The hybrid flinched, but he neither retaliated nor assumed his hybrid form. Selene said a silent prayer of thanks, for her lover's even temper, while the greeter pulled the silver needle from Michael's flesh and impaled her thumb. The slight pain was inconsequential for the hardened Death Dealer.

"Silver," the greeter reported, holding up the thin spike. "If you had been lycans, you would have had an intense reaction." Michael managed to contain his smirk. "Very well," the greeter continued. "Please follow me to the regent's office."

The greeter now led them up a grand staircase and down an ornate hallway. At the end of the hallway, he knocked, lightly, on a polished, wooden door. Moments later, someone on the other side of the door called for them to enter. The greeter opened the door and gestured for them to pass through. As Selene and Michael stepped into the comfortable office, the greeter closed the door behind them. Selene tried to convince herself that the door closing didn't sound like a jaw shutting as she studied the room's occupants.

Had the man seated behind the dark, wooden desk been human, Selene would have guessed that he was a forty-something, fit, and a man who didn't get out into the sun very often. The four men that flanked him, two on either side, appeared to range in age from mid-twenties to mid-thirties. All were burly and kept a hand inside their jackets. One of the men, who appeared to be the oldest, looked familiar to Selene.

Selene strode up to a point four feet in front of the desk and offered a slight bow; not the bow of an underling reporting to a superior, but of a skilled Death Dealer reporting to a regent. Michael followed suit and stood to her left and a foot behind her.

"Thank you for seeing me," she said.

"You are known to some of us here, Selene," the seated vampire told her. "Yet I find myself intrigued by the fact that our cameras recorded you moving around in daylight. I was unaware that our European kin had conceived a method of withstanding daylight."

"It was not the coven's doing, regent," Selene informed him. "Several…unprecedented events have taken place recently."

"Yes," the regent replied. "I have heard that both Victor and our own, dear Amelia are dead." His voice gained volume and an accusing nature as he spoke. "I have also heard that Lucian was not as dead as I was led to believe, but has now passed away. I have heard that my counterpart, Kraven has also died and Ordoghaz has burned to the ground. Nothing has been heard from Marcus, or Lorenz Macaro, the head of the Cleaners, for over two weeks."

"Now," he leaned forward, placing his palms on his desk. "One of the most dedicated Death Dealers from Ordoghaz shows up in the New World, with a mystery companion, and roughs up several of Amelia's coven before presenting herself to me. My charges had some very…interesting stories to tell me. Perhaps you can explain what's happening in Europe and why you've seen fit to assault those under my protection."

"If they were under your protection, they were under your authority as well," Selene began. "As such, you yourself might want to wonder why they were poaching. Were any elders still alive, I'm sure you would have an uncomfortable question and answer session, trying to explain why they were risking exposing your coven for a little, pure refreshment."

"So I would," the interrogator admitted.

"I broke up the little party, as was both my right and my duty as a senior Death Dealer," Selene continued. "As I thought that certain emotions would be running high after the confrontation, I felt it better to wait overday before presenting myself. That also gave your charges a chance to explain themselves."

"Which they did," the man told her, with a tight smile. "And I am conducting an internal investigation, finding out exactly who knew what they were up to, even as we speak. However, I don't know exactly what to believe. According to them, you had knives for fingers and your companion was stronger than any lycan. This is an interesting claim, since none of that particular bunch has ever met a lycan."

"Which is fortunate for them," Selene said.

"Indeed," he replied. "Still, it is clear that there is more to your companion than meets the eye. Might I inquire as to his name?"

"His name is Michael Corvin, and he is an immortal."

"So Michael, don't you speak?" The man asked, in a slightly taunting tone.

"I am new to this world," Michael answered. "So I let those wiser than me speak, when I have a choice."

"A wise policy," the man approved. "Now, since I have your name, perhaps I should admit that I am Mr. Lecoq. Now that we know who we all are, perhaps the two of you could tell me how non-lycans can withstand the light of day."

"It's a very long and very unusual story," Selene informed him. "With your permission, I would prefer to tell you how this situation came to be."

"I'll be willing to listen," Lecoq told her. "After you answer a few, direct questions. First, did either you or your companion have anything to do with Amelia's death?"

"No," Selene insisted. "Lucian's pack killed her, after he plotted her death with Kraven."

"How about the other two elders?"

"I killed both Victor and Marcus with my own hand." Selene admitted. "I found out that Victor had murdered my family and Marcus had released his brother."

The four Death Dealers flanking Lecoq pulled their pistols, reacting to some gesture, some signal that Selene had not been able to recognize. Selene dove to her right while Michael dove to his left. Bullets tore into the floor where they had stood moments before. Selene felt at least two shots tear into her left thigh. She ignored the pain, changed direction and tried to close in on her assailants. A roar of combined pain and rage told her that Michael had been hit, as well.

Selene crouched low, then leapt into the air. Another bullet caught her left thumb while several more shredded the paneling behind her. Yet, her desperate move had worked; she landed on top of one of the gunmen. Although her opponent was larger than she was, Selene had been fighting for centuries longer than he had. She became a hurricane of knees and elbows, keeping close to him so that his comrades couldn't shoot her without risking hitting him. Finally, she managed to deliver an elbow strike to his throat and he dropped with a horrid, gurgling sound.

She seized the fallen guard's pistol and spun, only to be confronted with a flailing mass of arms, legs and claws. Michael had managed to assume his hybrid form and close with his opponents. The few glimpses that Selene had of his darkened flesh told her that Michael had taken several bullets. Thinking quickly, she seized the regent and held her pistol to his head.

"EVERYBODY STOP!" She roared, with an authority that she hadn't realized she possessed. The chaotic mass of limbs halted its churning, revealing Michael and three Death Dealers, all tattered and bloody.

"You three, up against the far wall," she motioned with her chin. Two of the death dealers had to carry the third, whose right thigh had been torn open to the bone. Michael gathered their weapons and staggered to her side.

"You may have gained the upper hand here," Lecoq told her, keeping his voice calm despite the fact that he was quivering in fear. "But you will find it very difficult to escape the mansion."

"I have no intention of escaping," she informed him, struggling to conceal her concern for Michael. "Now that we've dispensed with our senseless, mandatory violence, why don't you call for some refreshment? Several of us are wounded. Once we take care of that, we can have a civil discussion."

Lecoq's expression was both surprised and curious as he activated his telephone and issued his order. Michael was barely on his feet when a servant arrived with what Selene could only consider a keg of red liquid and several glasses, loaded on an ornate cart. The man was a professional, paying no attention to the damage or the wounded, simply wheeling in the refreshment and asking the regent if he needed anything else. Selene told Lecoq to dismiss the man.

As soon as the servant left, Michael staggered to the keg and sniffed.

"It's a mixture of beef and synthetic," he reported. "I can smell some preservatives, but no drugs."

"You must be new to your immortality," Lecoq commented. "Very few drugs have any effect on us. Still, you show a rather…unique skill."

"Michael, feed," Selene ordered. "You two," she pointed at the two, least injured death dealers. "Revive your comrades."

Before long, all of the immortals, Selene included, had consumed, starting the healing process. Selene instructed the death dealers to take chairs along one wall, where Michael could keep an eye on them, while she addressed Lecoq again.

"Please don't blame my guards for their actions," he requested. "I had instructed them to incapacitate you, if you admitted to harming any of the elders. Another European vampire implied that you and your companion were involved in Amelia's demise."

"Tanis," Michael said. "He's been in this very room."

"He was one of them," Lecoq confirmed. "Yet, I now find myself curious to know your version of these events."

"I think you need to know this," Selene nodded. She spent the next several minutes telling him about Lucian's plan, Kraven's treachery, and Marcus's insane quest.

"The evidence before me seems to support your version of events more than Tanis's," Lecoq mused, when she was done. "I think I should call him here, to explain…with your permission, of course."

"I'm looking forward to his story," Selene smiled. Lecoq issued his orders over his phone.

"While we await our…inventive historian, perhaps you could tell me what you want from this coven," Lecoq leaned back in his chair, trying to look relaxed.

"We came here seeking sanctuary," Selene admitted. "We didn't want to be in Europe during the inevitable power struggle."

"True, the team I dispatched reports a great deal of…Yes?" The phone interrupted Lecoq's statement. After speaking for a few minutes, the regent's eyes flew wide. However, he quickly regained his composure. "Track him! I want him…both of them…found and delivered to me, understand? Excellent."

"It would appear that Tanis has managed to flee," he informed his audience. "He, Erika and one of our vehicles are missing. He saw you on our security cameras last night and made some…interesting suggestions as to why you might be here. He also expressed some interesting theories, connecting Amelia's death, Lucian and your companion."

"He didn't say any outright lies," Selene suggested. "He was always good at that, telling almost the entire truth, so that his lies would be believed."

"Anyway, since you have decided to stay and face the music, while Tanis has chosen to flee the area, I am inclined to believe your story over his. I can assure you that we no longer have any animosity towards you or your companion," Lecoq assured Selene. "However, I believe that we have a larger problem."

"Europe," Selene suggested. "The Cleaners have been eliminated and both the coven and the lycans are leaderless. The immortals are fighting each other and nobody is hiding the evidence."

"Meaning that the humans may discover our existence," Lecoq finished. "If that happens…" he trailed off.

"What do you suggest we do?" Selene asked, making a show of setting the guards' weapons to the side. In response, Lecoq motioned for all of the Death Dealers, save one, to leave the room. The tension lessened immediately.

"We do not need to worry about the New World," Lecoq told her. "Since we have never had an…organized lycan presence in the Western Hemisphere, we haven't had to worry about covering our tracks."

"You want us to return to Europe?" Michael asked.

"I don't think that would be a good idea," the regent told the hybrid. "The European vampires have such an…institutionalized…hatred of lycans that they would never accept you. On the other hand, I have no doubt that the European lycans feel much the same way about us. No, I'll send additional representatives from this coven; we have to try to make contact with the Cleaners."

"But the cleaners have been wiped out," Selene protested. "Alexander destroyed the ship that he worked from and the entire helicopter crew and assault squad died fighting Marcus and William."

"The Cleaners have operated for a very long time," Lecoq countered. "Surely some of there operatives have grown too old to continue the vigorous operations. Surely there are those who have retired and may be willing to reform the organization."

"I never considered that," Selene admitted, looking on the regent with greater respect. She was beginning to see why Amelia had left him in charge of her mansion.

"The problem is finding them," Lecoq confessed. "We didn't pay very close attention to that organization before this disaster. I don't have the slightest idea where to find any such members. I'll have to hope the operatives I send to Europe will be able to find some clues."

"Tanis!" Michael snapped. When the others stared at him, he answered. "He dealt with everyone, vampires, lycans and the Cleaners. He arranged for us to meet with Alexander, although he knew the man as Lorenz Marco."

"Do you think he would help us?" Lecoq asked Selene. "After all, he has a certain interest in all of this; he certainly wouldn't want the humans to learn of our existence."

"He won't help us willingly," Selene answered. "But Michael's right about him. He played the various vampire factions off against each other, as well as dealing with the lycans and the Cleaners. He'll need some convincing but he's very fond of his own skin. To be honest, I'd love to convince him myself; I owe him for his little bit of innuendo that led to our little reception. Of course, if he's traveling with Erika, he might look at being caught and captured as a sort of liberation."

"That will be your quest," Lecoq decided. "I'll equip the two of you, give you as much information as I can dig up, and send you after Tanis."

"Are you sure?" Selene asked. "I'm not familiar with America."

"Your companion is," the regent countered. "Not to mention, the two of you can travel during daylight and your companion has a lycan's senses. You are the best team for the job. You may not be prepared to accept my authority but, as the sole remaining regent of the sole intact coven, I take responsibility for the vampire species' survival. I hereby charge you with this duty."

"We accept," Selene informed him. "When do we start?"

"We will wait for a police report, or a call from our in-vehicle security provider. You may be here overday, unless you prefer to sleep at night."

"Numerous centuries have made me a daytime sleeper," Selene informed him.

"Then I will extend this mansion's hospitality until we obtain a lead," Lecoq declared. "Not to pry, but will you require separate rooms?"

"A single room will be fine," she informed him. "With a single bed."

* * *

_A/N:_

_Thanks for reading up to this point everyone, I really appreciate the reception I've gotten with this, my first Underworld Fanfic. _

_As always, I must thank my beta reader, Joe Stoppinghem._

_Until my next update, best wishes,_

_daccu65_


	7. Chapter 7, Settling on a Destination

* * *

Chapter 7: Settling on a Destination

"Don't swing from New Jersey, the shortest distance between two points is a straight line so keep your strike in line!" Herzl's instructor had just demonstrated the young Hungarian's error by stepping inside his slash and throwing him to the ground with a hip-toss. Still, Herzl had to admit that he was learning.

He sprang to his feet, drawing a deep breath of night air through his muzzle. He couldn't speak while embracing the wolf, so he lowered his head, showing his intention to comply. His senior pack-mate gave him a nod and called for the entire class to repeat the exercise. Herzl was impressed; he had never practiced martial arts, while embracing the wolf, in Europe. Here at…Farrier Ranch, older pack members remained in human form, mimicking a blood's moves, to drill the younger members. Herzl had been humiliated at first. After all, one of the pack's points of pride had been their physical superiority over the bloods, once they embraced the wolf.

It had all been foolish, false pride. Herzl now knew why the bloods had been able to dominate his kind. While the pack had unmatched strength, speed and ferocity, the bloods countered with skill, experience and equipment. When a pack member embraced the wolf, he lost his hands. The wolf's claws were fine weapons, but they couldn't grasp and grip like a human's hands; a werewolf couldn't wield an axe or sword even if he wanted to. Here, he was learning to really make use of his wild strength and speed.

Beyond the training, he knew that the pack had equipped itself for a confrontation, even though he hadn't been around long enough for the pack to trust him with the details. Still, several of the more senior pack members embraced the wolf, each night, and slunk off into a deep draw. Gunfire, automatic gunfire, sounded from the draw for several hours after they went in. Herzl was actually impressed with the pack's planning, the ridges around the draw blocked the sound from the nearest neighbors, so that nobody knew that the pack had an arsenal, much less that they were training with it. There were also several sections in the buildings that were locked to the newcomer. Herzl was no idiot, he checked and saw power and plumbing lines running into these sections and he could hear the machinery sounds echo out of them during the day. Clearly, these were workshops that the pack wanted to keep secret.

Just because he couldn't go into the workshops didn't mean that he didn't work. All of the pack members worked hard, every day. Still, Herzl couldn't complain. He actually liked carpentry and he seemed to have a talent for the skill. Some of the seniors must have noticed this, so Herzl spent most of every day doing carpentry work, under the careful eye of an older, more skilled packmate. After a week of this work, Herzl had come to the conclusion that this pack wasn't just preparing him to become a fighter, they were molding him as a person. Now, the newcomer wasn't about to flee, even if he still wore the shackle.

"Okay, line up!" The instructor demanded. Herzl and his classmates, mostly younger packmates from North America, formed a single line.

"You all know the drill," the senior packmate snarled. "Around the far field and back. It's a six mile run, so move it…NOW!"

The instructor didn't need to yell to get his charges moving. If there was one thing that Herzl and his classmates loved, it was the long run that concluded each night's training. Canines were distance runners, and the pack was no exception. Herzle flexed his legs and launched himself into the race, thrilling at the feel of the night air rushing through his fur.

* * *

"So, just what are we looking for?" Erika demanded, after drinking her fill. The young, loudmouthed vacationer had been just a little too open in his admiration for the blonde vampire. When he clumsily asked her to accompany him to his room, she had suggested they go to hers. He had been all too eager to do so and had wound up providing Erika and Tanis with sustenance. The best part of the scenario, at least from the vampires' point of view, was that their arrogant meal had been more than outspoken with his disdain for the small town he found himself in. Nobody local would miss him for several days.

"A report I dug up from the coven's archives told about a possible lycan sighting, in a town about sixty kilometers, or roughly forty miles, from here," Tanis answered. "The Death Dealers investigated but couldn't find any lycans. The local police found a very strange firearm, but nothing else."

"We fled the coven to look for a modified gun?" Erika snarled.

"No, my dear," Tanis corrected her. "We fled from Selene and Michael. We came here to investigate lycan activity."

"By looking at an old gun?"

"Of course, if you were a lycan, wouldn't you want a firearm you can use? I'm tracing down the coven's lycan sightings. I'm sure that there's a pack here and we should be able to ingratiate ourselves to it."

"Lycans?" Erika demanded. "Why would we want to join with a bunch of stinking animals?"

"They actually bathe quite regularly," Tanis countered, in a very calm voice. "And they don't go back on their deals, at least the ones in Europe didn't."

"You've dealt with lycans?"

"How do you think Kraven made contact with Lucian?" Tanis looked honestly amused. "You've never had the pleasure of being hated by your own species. Trust me, you learn to do what you need to survive. Speaking of which, I need to take the plates off of our vehicle and place them on this…less than a gentleman's…automobile. We'll burn him, in our vehicle and take his. Following the clues I can glean from the coven's records, we should be able to find the lycans."

"I still don't understand how allying ourselves with mangy animals is going to help us."

"Don't let Kraven's prejudices blind you," Tanis sighed. "You haven't dealt with our furry cousins, I have. Lucian's bunch back in dear old Eastern Europe weren't that bad, better than some of my own kind, in fact. If the pack here has managed to keep undercover for as long as I suspect…well, let's just say that we should be safe."

Erika shook her head but helped him swap the license plates and drag their meal into the vehicle. She climbed into their new transport, a much better car than the one they stole from the coven, and she followed him out of town, in the direction opposite their intended travel. After several kilo….a few miles, he pulled off of the highway and onto a gravel road. This road crossed a small bridge. Tanis waved for Erika to halt then faked loosing control of his vehicle, leaving skid marks in the gravel up to the bridge's railing. He then climbed out of the car, wedged their meal into the driver's seat and forced the man's foot onto the accelerator. The car crashed into the railing, causing massive damage. Not leaving anything to chance, Tanis punctured the gas tank (he had topped it off before leaving town) and lit a small timer, consisting of a simple birthday candle, near the growing pool of gasoline.

Tanis ran back to their new vehicle and jumped in the passenger side. Erika knew their next destination and quickly drove off. The precautions they had made wouldn't fool law enforcement for very long, but with a little luck they would keep anyone from looking for the late, arrogant man's car until after Erika and Tanis had acquired a new vehicle.

* * *

"Okay, so Tanis and Erika went north and a little east," Michael reviewed the information Lecoq had given the pair. "They seem to have found shelter in a coven bolt-hole, outside of Memphis. Last night, the car security system's signal stopped and we're heading for their last known location."

"I'm perfectly aware of this, Michael," Selene informed him.

"Okay, can you tell me why the coven didn't just tell the security service to inform the local law enforcement? The cops would have nabbed them and we could have come picked them up."

"You honestly don't know?" Selene took her eyes of the road, for a moment, to give her lover an incredulous glare.

"I know we don't want to leave them in custody," Michael protested. "But why not make use of the authorities?"

"The minute we inform the authorities, it becomes a criminal matter," Selene explained. "This means they would be tried for grand theft, or some such. Now, what happens, one fine day, when the police take them from prison to the courthouse, for their formal sentencing?"

"We'd wind up exposing ourselves, wouldn't we?" Michael looked appropriately chagrined.

"As well as loosing the very contact that we are attempting to hunt down," Selene confirmed. "Lecoq is a smart man; he reported the incident to the security service as a family member gone renegade. The security service thinks that he doesn't want to level charges, just get his hands on a rebellious nephew." Selene smiled at the irony, "which isn't all that far from the truth."

"Which makes it all the more believable," Michael finished.

"Now you're starting to learn," she nodded. "Mr. Lecoq set us up with aliases as his private investigator. When we get to Tanis's last known location, we'll introduce ourselves to the local constable…"

"Sheriff or police chief," Michael corrected.

"And state that we are attempting to locate this vehicle," Selene finished, with a nod to acknowledge his correction. "We will tell them that it was stolen from our employer's property, and we're trying to track it down. The only problem will occur if Tanis and Erika have committed some form of crime, or are suspects. In that case, the law enforcement official will demand any information that we can provide. Fortunately, Mr. Lecoq has provided us with believable cover information."

"I don't know if I'm cut out for this cloak and dagger life," Michael admitted. "Every time I seem to get a grip on immortal life, another issue comes up and makes me feel like a two-year old."

"Don't concern yourself," Selene chuckled back. "You get used to most of the intrigues and double-dealings in the first half-century or so. After that, it's all a matter of subtlety and detail. You passed medical school, you're bright enough to grasp the concepts."

"It's funny," Michael chuckled. "I always looked down on politicians, mortal ones, that is. It seemed that so many of them didn't care if the world went to hell, just as long as each of them could claim his little slice of the pie. I mean, here in the U.S., the federal government hasn't had a balanced budget for over thirty years, yet the good senators and representatives demand the pork barrel spending, making them look good for their constituents. They don't seem to care that they might bring the whole government down, as long as they can say that they've brought in the dollars to their district or state, they're happy."

"That isn't a uniquely American issue," Selene told him. "But what does that have to do with our situation?"

"I figured that an immortal, with decades, even centuries of experience, would know better."

"I still don't understand your reasoning," Selene confessed.

"Okay, take the ongoing immortal war in Europe. Lycans and vampires are attacking each other and leaving the evidence for humans to discover. How long do you think it's going to be before humanity, presented with the evidence, figures out immortals exist? When that happens, how long will it be before humanity makes a concentrated effort to either eliminate, or at least contain, the immortals? Still, everyone's more concerned about defending their turf, invading someone else's, or settling old scores to worry about the big picture."

"We aren't much better," he continued. "We left those three Death Dealers back in the apartment."

"I don't think you're giving the immortals enough credit," Selene informed him. "We've lived among humanity for centuries, if humanity were to become aware of our…unique situation…do you really think humanity could eradicate us?"

"Not to the last individual," Michael told her. "But humanity would eliminate the comfortable lifestyle the coven is used to. For example, my lycan sense of smell can tell me if I'm dealing with a human, a lycan, or a vampire. A wolf's nose isn't as capable as a bloodhounds so how long would it take before humanity trained such dogs to detect immortals?"

"Why in the hell didn't the coven ever figure that out?" Selene asked, rhetorically.

"Then there's the brute numbers game," Michael continued, as if he hadn't heard her. "I'm going to take a wild guess and say that there's fewer than a million immortals living, at this time."

"The real number is probably less than a tenth of your estimate, but I understand what you're saying. If humanity were to take up arms, en masse, against the immortals, we couldn't win. There would be a handful of us left, living haunted, hidden lives, but that would be about it."

"So, when you really get down to it, we're acting as sort of…champions to the immortal races," Michael mused. "We're trying to preserve the immortal lifestyle."

"I never thought of it that way, but you're correct."

"Maybe I'll have to go to Europe when we're done here," Michael pondered. "I might be able to convince the lycan packs that we have a common cause." He chuckled. "Maybe it's time for lycans and vampires to quit killing each other."

"You're not going anywhere without me," Selene informed him. "But I agree with you. Maybe I, who's spent centuries killing lycans based on a lie, will be instrumental in stopping the war."

The couple fell into a comfortable, companionable silence for the rest of the trip.

* * *

"Why would you want to see that old piece of junk?" Sheriff Roberts asked. Tanis and Erika, posing as investigative reporters, had just tracked the man down as he watched a nighttime Little League Baseball game.

"I'm writing a book about various nature lover cults," Tanis told him. "I've run into a couple of instances where the cultists went so far as to dress up in animal costumes and declare that they were defending the Earth."

"And you think that old rifle might have belonged to one of these nut cases?" The sheriff wasn't a cosmopolitan sort, but he wasn't an idiot, either.

"Sheriff," Tanis replied. "These people are…touched. This particular bunch will even tape up their hands, so they can't use their opposable thumbs; some nonsense about dealing with the world as a natural creature."

The sheriff snorted, then looked thoughtful. "The trigger was in the stock," he mused. "And you shot by squeezing the rifle into your shoulder. Mister, you might have just answered a question that's been bugging me for the last two years." The lawman hopped to his feet and left the bleachers, with Erika and Tanis right behind him.

"Er…Sheriff?" Tanis asked. "Aren't you off-duty?"

"Mister, when you're a small-town lawman, you're never off duty. Now, you've just given me something to check out, so I'm checking it out while I can. That old rifle's still in our evidence locker. The two of you are welcome to look it over with me."

"Lead the way, sir."

Soon, the two immortals followed the Sheriff into the county jail, which contained the Sheriff's Department's offices. The lawman asked them to wait in his office while he retrieved the weapon from the locker. Soon, the Sheriff returned, carrying a very odd looking rifle.

"It's a modified M-1 rifle," the lawman told them. "As you can see, the trigger has been removed. It's been replaced with a pressure trigger in the stock; you shoot the weapon by squeezing it to your shoulder. The rear sight has been modified. As you can see, it's been raised several inches and extended to the left. The front sight has been raised to match it. The stock, as well has containing the trigger, has been extended, as well."

"Now for the grips," he continued. "The front grip has a notch in it, as well as a strap over the notch. The rear grip also has a deep notch and a strap. Now, you think that your nut-group might have a reason for modifying the rifle this much?"

"May I handle the weapon, Sheriff?"

"Be my guest," the lawman replied, handing Tanis the rifle.

"Okay, please bear in mind that this is the first time I've handled this particular firearm," Tanis told him. "Now, I'm going to keep my fingers and thumb together, as if I were mimicking some sort of animal. Notice how, by placing my hands into these straps, then spinning them, I can tuck them snuggly into the notches? This would give me a fairly stable hold, even without actually grasping the weapon."

"Those notches are awfully large," the lawman commented.

"True, but if I were wearing some sort of animal gloves, I'd need that extra space."

"I'll be darned," the sheriff muttered. "What about the sights?"

"Imagine that I'm wearing some sort of oversized, animal mask with a muzzle, like a bear or a wolf," Tanis told him. "With the sights modified like this, I can place my eye behind the sight. Without such a modification, my muzzle would get in the way."

"You wouldn't be a sniper," the sheriff commented. "But you'd be fairly accurate. That trigger in the stock, it'd allow you to shoot without using a finger, wouldn't it?"

"Such a cult is, of course, only one possible explanation," Tanis told him. "I very much appreciate you letting me examine this weapon." Tanis returned the rifle to the lawman.

"Well, your explanation is the only one that explains everything…hang on a minute!" The lawman pulled a folder out of a nearby cabinet.

"Okay," he said, paging through the reports. "We had reports of one or more large, hairy critters running around that night. There were howls, growling and yelps, kind of like two big dogs fighting. Your cult theory would explain that, wouldn't it?"

"A couple of cultists, in their costumes, might have had a disagreement," Tanis nodded. "When they really get into their roles, and they sometimes use chemical enhancements, if you know what I mean, to get in the mood. They act like the animals they revere."

"Okay," the sheriff nodded, continuing to read. "Here's some more funny stuff. We didn't have any reports of shots fired, but we found a big bloodstain where the critters had been reported. I sent a sample to the State Crime Lab, and they told me that it wasn't human so I decided we weren't dealing with a murder. The other funny thing was that the bullets in that rifle were silver."

"Maybe the cultists read one too many werewolf stories," Tanis mused. "I've never heard of the cult using silver bullets."

The sheriff chuckled before continuing, "we had a fair number of pets go missing for a few days before this happened. We never did find them. A vagabond had been spotted, probably living just out of town and nobody saw him after this incident."

"The cult doesn't believe in domesticating animals," Tanis explained. "They consider it an abomination and say that such animals should be destroyed. Your vagabond might not have been a member, but by living out of town and not associating with his fellow man, he does fit the mold."

"Okay, the only other odd thing was that we had a pickup, with Montana plates, stay overnight at our only motel," the sheriff concluded. "It was gone before dawn, the day we found the rifle and the blood. We called him up and he claimed that he was here to buy a couple of breeding bulls from a local rancher. The Montana State Patrol visited his ranch and he gave them a copy of the receipt. They faxed us a copy and it matches the local rancher's paperwork. We figured that he was here on legitimate business and didn't bother him anymore."

"If it was a cult issue, he wouldn't be a rancher," Tanis informed Sheriff Roberts. "They consider any form of domestication to be abhorrent. However, could you give me his address and phone number? He might be a little more open with an author, as opposed to a lawman."

"Sure thing," the Sheriff said, jotting down the information. "Is there anything else?"

"No, sheriff, other than to say thank you. You don't know how much I appreciate the information."

"I should be thanking you," the lawman replied. "You've given me a pretty good theory to work with. Now, I'd better get back to the game."

"Do you have family playing?" Erika asked.

"No, but you might not understand small town life, Miss," he replied. "The whole town turns out for the games, so I want to be on hand, directing traffic, when the game's over. That's also why I knew about the Montana rancher staying here that night. Someone from that far away staying overnight is pretty big news."

That said, the policeman led them out of the building. He drove off while the immortals climbed into their own vehicle.

"I'm going to hate myself for asking this," Erika admitted, as she drove out of town. "But is there actually such a cult?"

"Not that I'm aware of," Tanis smiled. "It was, of course, pure bullshit. Still, you have to admit that a lycan could use that weapon, while in a beastly form."

"Why would a lycan carry silver bullets?" Erika demanded. "And don't give me some load of garbage. I'm in this with you and your life might depend on me knowing what you're planning."

"Fair enough," Tanis admitted. "Okay, here's my theory. I'm assuming that there is a lycan presence on this continent; they refer to themselves as packs, by the way. Anyway, say that there's a lycan pack that has dedicated itself to remaining unknown. If a lycan were to decide that the heat was too great in dear old Hungary, he might flee to the New World. Were that to happen, the local pack would attempt to either apprehend or eliminate him, before the coven could discover his presence."

"Isn't that a little far-fetched?" Erika asked. "I mean, I can understand a cov…a pack remaining secret for a few decades, but for centuries?"

"A question, my dear," Tanis countered. "Our own covens have remained…unknown…to humanity for over a millennia. If we can keep our…unique existence…unknown to billions of humans, why can't the lycans keep their existence unknown to hundreds of vampires?"

"But the lycans are just animals! They're violent and uncontrolled! They don't have the discipline and foresight to plan out such a long-lasting deception!"

"Erika, I'm not a soldier, I'm a historian but I've learned a thing or two by recording military history. The worst thing you can do is under estimate an opponent. Lucian was just as bright, just as ruthless as any elder. Now, we find ourselves separated from our own race and they are probably hunting for us right now. We need shelter and if I'm right, who better to provide it than those who've been evading our kind for centuries?"

"I still have trouble believing that…lycans…can be so bright. Most of the coven agreed that they were vicious brutes."

"That's the second deadly error," Tanis informed her, continuing his lecture. "Giving in to your preconceptions. You dealt with Victor's administrators and functionaries. Victor took racial pride to an extreme and those around him learned to mimic his beliefs. Did you ever talk shop with Selene?"

"No," Erika snarled.

"You missed out on a learning experience," Tanis concealed a smirk. "If you had asked her about lycans, you would have realized that she respected them. She hated them with an unholy passion, but she respected them. Most Death Dealers learned, the hard way, just how competent our hairy cousins could be."

"You sound like you admire them," Erika accused.

"You're about to learn another lesson," he told her. "Victor's downfall was his pride. Because he was so proud of himself and his race, he had to look down his jaded nose at the lycan race, considering them less than us. This belief spread within the coven. Now, once he banished me, I learned otherwise. I also learned that pride is a very heavy burden to carry. If you're on the run, it's the first thing you should cast aside."

"Okay, that makes sense _**if**_ your assumptions are correct," Erika conceded. "So, where are we going?"

Tanis held up the address he had copied earlier. "We're going to Montana, of course."

"Okay," she nodded. "That makes sense, now where in the heck is Montana?"

"I was hoping you knew," he replied with a smile.

* * *

A/N: Another chapter down! While I don't have the entire story written out yet, I think this ones going to be around twenty chapters long. I'd like to thank everyone who has stuck with me this long, and ask you to stick with me for the rest. I've really appreciated the reviews and PMs, which have given me some ideas and have let me know where I need to explain myself more completely. Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to let me know what you think, even if it's a negative comment.

Again, my fondest thanks to to Joe Stoppinghem, for his patient beta support.

Until my next update, best wishes;

daccu65

* * *


	8. Chapter 8: Go West, Young Immortal

Chapter 8: Go West, Young Immortal

"We've got a problem, Brian, and I need your help," John's voice broke the pre-dawn darkness, where the former Ranger was working.

Brian turned away from the tractor motor he was repairing and faced the elder. "What do you need me to do?" He asked, simply.

"We have a pick-up to take care of, and it's probably going to go nasty," John informed him. "We'll be taking Jeff with us and meeting with two kinsmen when we get there. Our kinsmen think that the subject has turned someone, so we have to move fast." John fixed the younger man with a very serious expression before informing him; "we're going in armed."

The younger man didn't need further instruction; he simply put away his tools and rushed for his room. As a designated 'recovery specialist' (the current joke was 'retriever') he maintained a ready bag at all times. He rushed to his home, where he met his father, Jeff, who had both of their bags waiting for them. They kissed his mother farewell and rushed to a particular shed.

Pete, the pack's weaponsmith, and John were waiting for them by a locked door in the back of the shed. Pete unlocked the door and led them inside the small workshop, locking the door behind them. Their kinsman opened a hidden door, in the floor, and led them down a ladder, into a secret workshop, whose walls were lined with weapons.

After a quick, whispered conversation, Pete prepared three bags. Jeff received a modified M-60, whose sights and trigger looked surprisingly like the M-1 Tanis had examined several days ago. Both John and Brian received smaller, modified submachine guns and hollow, steel tubes. All three men accepted pistols and shiny, gleaming ammunition for their weapons. All three men carried their armaments in weathered, canvas bags that looked like tool or equipment bags.

Scrambling back up the ladder, the three men approached a Winnebago, which another kinsman had just retrieved from a garage. The three stowed their gear in the vehicle, and then double-checked to make sure the specialized equipment was already on board. It was.

John took the wheel while the other two settled in. "The subject's in Topeka," he explained to his subordinates. "Our nose in the area picked up on him yesterday, and approached him. The subject became violent, but our kinsman didn't want to fight him in an urban setting. While he, by that I mean our kin, was backing away, he caught scent of a second. This second had been bitten, but hadn't changed yet. It's the full moon tonight, so we have to get there quick."

"Do we have a cover story?" Jeff asked. Brian, as the youngest, kept his peace.

"Standard story number three," John informed them. "We're checking in on our local distributor." The other two men nodded, their vehicle had commercial plates and a company logo. Their kinsman ran a small business. This gave them a good reason to be in the area.

"Why don't the two of you try to get some sleep," John suggested. "It's going to be a long couple of days. I'll switch with one of you in a few hours."

The two younger men agreed and the RV ate up the miles. The three men took turns driving, trading off every few hours and continuing to plan. The sun was a red orb in the western sky when they pulled into Topeka.

"Brian and I've been talking," Jeff informed his elder, after waking the man. "We're a little concerned."

"About what?"

"Well, it's like this," Jeff told him. "Herzl said that the war went crazy over in Europe and that's why he came here. He isn't a genius, but he isn't an idiot either, he's pretty average. Now, if he came up with the idea to clear out and hide, I'm willing to bet that more of us, and some bloods, came up with the same idea. I'm willing to bet that we're dealing with one of our European kin."

"There's a good chance that you're right," John nodded. "What does this mean for us."

"It means a greater exposure risk," Brian chimed in. "In Europe, our cousins had their cover put together. They had jobs, food sources and hiding spots. The bloods had the same things. Now, if they're coming here, they don't have any of that. That means they're going to have to find shelter, jobs and food. That means they're going to be risking exposure."

"This is true," John agreed. "What do you suggest we do about it?"

"I think we should be more active in our patrolling," the recent Ranger said. "I know we have kin all over the country, but we might want to have our kin actually out checking more often. After all, if a blood or one of us wanders through, our kin can find out and call us in."

"Any other ideas?"

"Maybe we could try to get some of our kin working at ports of entry," Jeff suggested. "If any of the bloods, or our kin, try to smuggle themselves in, we can sniff them out and have some warning."

"I didn't think about that last one," John admitted. "But I'd already set out instructions to do the first. We'll be having a meeting when we get back. I need more ideas. Right now, though, we need to take care of this mission."

"You can count on us, elder," Brian assured him, pulling off of the turnpike.

While Brian had never been to his kinsmen's Topeka business, Jeff was able to give him directions to the shop. The building had a high ceiling vehicle bay, where the kinsmen stored the RV. Soon, all five were in the employee break room (the kinsmen had made sure that all of their employees had left for the day) discussing the situation. Minutes later, they were in other vehicles, driving to the other end of town. One of the vehicles was a converted pickup with City Animal Control markings. Before long, they were in a small park, in a working class neighborhood.

"We first caught scent of this subject yesterday," the elder of the two kinsmen explained. "He was alone at that time. He became very aggressive when we approached him. We trailed him here, where we caught scent of a pack member who hadn't had his first change. The house belongs to the newbie, who's a bachelor, by the way. From the subject's accent, we figured he came from Eastern Europe and bit the other one. When his victim turned, rather than dying, he wound up with a permanent place to stay."

"That sounds like a reasonable explanation," John nodded, thoughtfully. "What about the newbie? Does he have any family?"

"We obtained his social security number," the other kinsman explained. "And we're doing an automated check. We should have more information by the time we're through here." The man paused, then lowered his head, submissively. "Forgive me for not being prepared, elder."

"I'm not looking for the impossible," John told him. "You've done well to get this much, in this short time, but I expect the P2 to have a full report, by the time I get back to the ranch, is that clear?"

"Yes, elder."

"Very well," John informed the two, local kinsmen. "Continue your report."

"Several local pets have vanished," the older of the two men reported. "And the foreigner isn't being very discrete about his activities. He's very confrontational towards the neighbors and he allows himself to be seen leaving at sundown and returning during the day."

"In other words, he's a prime exposure risk," John concluded. "Let's take care of this. With any luck, we can get in there and take care of things before moonrise."

The five kinsmen donned city employee uniforms, complete with boots, hardhats and gloves. Brian also donned a full protective mask over his face before visiting the neighboring houses and explaining that he was an Animal Control Agent, responding to a complaint. His shaded mask kept the homeowners from getting a good look at his face as asked them to keep any pets and children inside. With the neighbors warned, the two local kinsmen picked up capture sticks, with hidden, silver barbs, and took up positions at the front door while the other three circled to the back, carrying all of their disguised gear.

John and his two companions broke into the back door as quietly as they could. Noticing that the curtains were all drawn, and the neighbors couldn't see in, Jeff embraced the wolf and sniffed around, soon concluding that the two subjects were in the basement. Brian handed his father the modified machine gun, which looked like a carbine in the lycan's grip. Brian led the way down the stairs, with John right behind him. Jeff wouldn't intervene unless the takedown went to hell. Halfway down the stairs, Brian heard the snarls from ahead of him that told him they had been detected. This was no shock, as even a normal human would have heard the three 'retrievers' breaking in.

With stealth a useless dream, Brian charged down the rest of the stairs and drove into the door at the bottom, leading with his shoulder. The door shattered in a burst of splinters and the former Ranger threw himself forward in a tuck and roll, barely avoiding decapitation from the werewolf's slashing claw. Brian regained his feet as his adversary spun around to face him. The werewolf charged with a rumbling growl. Brian simply lifted his steel tube to his mouth and blew through it, launching a small, silver dart.

The werewolf wasn't expecting this simple attack, so the barbed dart buried itself in his belly. The beast only hesitated a moment before lunging forward again, letting loose a roar that morphed into a human's yell. Brian didn't wait for his opponent to close with him, he leapt forward, ducked inside the wild slash and executed the same hip-toss he had demonstrated to Herzl a few days previously. The rogue werewolf had been forced completely to his human form by the time he crashed to the ground, the air forced out of his lungs by the impact. Brian wasted no time, flipping his opponent onto his face applying a carotid artery choke. Seconds later, the rogue was out cold and Brian pulled out a shackle and needle restraint.

While Brian dealt with the rogue, John had the time to look around and notice that the basement was a single, large, unfinished room. In the corner, a naked man sat, sweating profusely, leaned up against a wall. Closer examination revealed that a chain ran from one ankle to a bracket in the cinderblock wall. Shaking his head, knowing that the transformed newcomer would probably yank the chain out of the wall, he walked over and crouched in front of the terrified young man.

"Son," he addressed the prisoner. "I know that you've seen some things and have had some things done to you, in the last few days that just don't make any sense. You've probably about half convinced yourself that you're going to wake up at some time, and this will have all been a bad dream. I'm here to give you the bad news that it isn't; this is real."

Almost on cue Jeff, in his werewolf form, ambled into view. The chained man started to sweat even more profusely and now started to gasp for air. _"The moon's about to rise_," John thought. _"I have to make this quick."_

"Son," he told the frightened man. "I'm going to have to tell you that some of the horror stories you've heard are real. You've become a werewolf, a lycan, and you'll change in a couple of minutes when the moon rises. Now, it doesn't look like it at the moment, but I'm going to try to help you."

The chained main howled in agony, his back arching as his first transformation claimed him. John could tell he was fighting it and it wouldn't do him any good. Relentlessly, the change overcame the frightened man, leaving a werewolf standing before the elder. John didn't wait, he lifted the blowgun to his lips and hit the confused beast with a barbed, silver dart. The werewolf only managed one, loud howl before he slumped to the ground, a man once more.

"There isn't time to explain everything," John told him, fitting him with a shackle and needle. "I wish things could be different for you, I really do, but I can't make things right by you. I can only do what's best for all of us." He produced a syringe, full of sedative, and injected the terrified man. Soon, the man was out. John looked behind him and realized that Jeff and Brian had sedated the initial lycan, as well.

"Okay, just like we planned it," John commanded.

The two local kinsmen brought a gurney into the house. John and Brian loaded the new lycan onto the gurney and Jeff covered him with his werewolf bulk. The rest of the lycans covered the two with a blanket, then wheeled the gurney to the truck. The neighbors saw a blanket covering a large, bulky, furry body. Once the kinsmen were in the truck, Jeff changed back to human and dressed in the clothing that Brian had stashed in an equipment bag. None of the neighbors realized that one more man emerged from the truck than had entered it. The kinsmen repeated the process for the rogue lycan.

Once the two subjects were safely locked away, the kinsmen told the neighbors that they had discovered two wolves, chained in the basement and assured everyone in the neighborhood that they would inform the proper authorities. Minutes later, the five kinsmen were back at the shop, where they loaded their cargo into hidden compartments in the RV. Minutes after that, John, Brian and Jeff were on their way back to Montana.

* * *

"_So this is Montana,"_ Tanis mused, letting the car eat up the miles on Interstate 90. _"It's rather interesting that we didn't know where it was. This blasted state is ten times the size of Hungary…and has maybe one tenth the population."_

Tanis was feeling just a little nervous. Like many vampires, the thought of sunrise catching him on an unpopulated, open plain terrified him. He assured himself that the sun wouldn't make an appearance for another two hours and that they should arrive at his destination, a former fallout shelter in a postage-stamp sized town, in half of that time.

"I can't see why the lycans would ever want to move out here," Erika grumped.

"Oh?" Tanis asked.

"How would they find food?" She asked. "For that matter, how are we going to find food? It's been two days since that arrogant ass volunteered himself. We'll have to dine again, and soon. That last town we passed, a half-hour ago, claimed a population of 408. 408! How can you take a human from that small of a population? Other humans will miss the one they, or we, take! Besides, have you thought about what might happen to us if this car were to break down out here, just before dawn?"

"I've been trying to not think about that last one," Tanis admitted. "As for feeding, perhaps the lycans don't need to take humans for food." He pointed out the side window. The vampires' night vision allowed them to see the dark landscape with the same vision a human would see on a cloudy day.

"What do you mean?" Erika demanded. "The only thing I can see is, as the locals put it, miles and miles of miles and miles."

"I don't mean the lack of civilization," Tanis chuckled. "I mean the rather large herds you see. I think I've seen more cattle and sheep in three nights than I would see in two years, back in Hungary."

"So you're interested in agriculture, as well as history?"

"Only when it keeps me fed. Where do you think the beef blood we consumed in New Orleans came from?"

"From a cow, of course…Oh!" Erika suddenly nodded her understanding.

"Exactly," Tanis grinned at her sudden understanding. "Placing yourself in the middle of such herds means that you don't need to take your meals from humans. Placing yourself in such isolation means that your…eccentricities…can remain secret. I wouldn't be surprised if the lycans own a substantial cattle ranch."

Tanis paused a moment, contemplating such consumption, and if he could enrich himself from it. For a vampire, the absolutely strongest sustenance was another immortal's blood, followed by an unturned human's. After this, the provider's strength and vitality determined the benefit. The coven's synthetic blood was near the lower end of the desirability list. Horses and cattle, being large, strong creatures, proved an excellent source. Tanis had observed an occasional American Bison and wondered how bolstering blood from one of these creatures would prove. For a few minutes, he contemplated if he could become a sort of exotic rancher, keeping various, powerful creatures and selling their blood to other immortals. He idly wondered if he could turn a profit from such a venture.

"Okay, you've suitably humbled me by showing my ignorance," Erika groused, interrupting his pleasant thoughts. "But don't you think you're being just a little arrogant? Why do you think that you can track down a lycan stronghold, if it even exists, when it has kept its existence secret from the entire New World Coven?"

"It isn't because I'm particularly intelligent," Tanis informed her. "It's because circumstances have forced me to look upon our furry cousins in a different light. Most vampires see the lycans as dangerous, unthinking beasts. Most Death Dealers see them as capable, but unsophisticated adversaries. I look upon them as a variant of our own species."

"A variant that wants to eliminate us," Erika insisted.

"I don't think that Lucian ever wanted to eliminate us," Tanis corrected. "Don't get me wrong, he wanted to throw down the hierarchy and eliminate the elders, but I don't think he wanted to eliminate vampire kind. Believe me, after Victor killed Sonja, Lucian wanted to eviscerate every vampire in the world. Yet, after some time passed, he wanted peace, peace on lycan terms, mind you but peace nonetheless."

"I don't find that particularly comforting, but back to the original question; how are you going to locate the lycan…pack…in a matter of days when the entire coven hasn't managed to locate it for decades?"

"I have two things going for me, my dear," Tanis pronounced, in a faux lofty voice. "First, I'm actually looking for an organized clan. I think that our former companions just couldn't bring themselves to believe that there could be an organized, lycan presence on the continent."

"And the second thing?"

"We don't actually have to find them. We'll just get into the area and they'll find us."

* * *

"Okay, so we found the car that Tanis and Erika stole from the coven, they had changed plates and destroyed the thing, with a body inside it. So now they're murder suspects and we have to get to them before the police."

"I'm quite aware of this, Michael," Selene barely glanced up from the map she was studying.

"Speaking out loud helps me think," Michael protested. "You're lucky you weren't around when I was working on my thesis, I just about drove my roommate nuts." His only response was a slightly raised eyebrow.

"Okay, so Tanis and Erika roll the loudmouth, switch vehicles and plates, then burn the old car. That gave them somewhere between 24 and 48 hours worth of a head start. Where did they go?"

"That's what I'm trying to determine," Selene told him. "One of the coven was a bit of a computer nerd. She did some sort of a diagnosis on his computer, checking the Internet searches he conducted as well as what he was viewing on the coven's internal records."

"What did she find out?"

"That our friend Tanis was very interested in potential, North American lycan sightings. Currently, she's compiling a list of such sightings Tanis reviewed, and will give us a list of people to interview. This may give us some leads."

"North American lycan sightings?" Michael asked. "Could he think that there are lycan packs here?"

"I don't know, but it seems to match the way he works. When he has problems with a faction, he runs to a rival faction and sells his knowledge."

"Do you think that there are lycan packs in North America?"

"I've never thought about it, but if there are, your presence will prove invaluable if we run into one."

"In the meantime, what do we do?"

"Train," she told him. "I've taken the liberty of locating a shooting range. We're going to start you on pistols today. This afternoon, we'll be doing basic sparring. During all of this, you'll be teaching me the American, English dialect and helping me loose my accent."

"Great," he grumbled. "So I'll learn how to be a killer."

"It's necessary," she snapped at him. "Like it or not, your world is now dominated by violence. You can either adapt or die."

He took his correction like a man, prompting Selene to soften her voice.

"Look, Michael," she murmured, sitting next to him on the bed. "This honestly bothers me. I know that you wanted to be a doctor, a healer, but you have to adapt to whatever life throws your way. It hasn't been easy for me, either."

"How's that?"

"A few weeks ago, I had my future all planned out. I was going to hunt lycans until there were no more of the filthy brutes. After that, I was going to serve Victor, in whatever capacity he wished, for eternity. Then things changed."

"First, I discovered just how intelligent and civilized Lucian truly was, so lycans weren't filthy brutes anymore. Then I found out that Victor had betrayed me. Finally, I found someone else to live for."

"You mean?" Michael looked at her, intently.

"Yes, Michael, I love you," she admitted. "And that is why I'm pushing so hard. I was ready to die, when I thought that Marcus had killed you. I want to keep you by my side for centuries to come, and that means preparing you to face whatever comes your way. I'm teaching you the skills of violence so that we can survive to live in peace."

* * *

_A/N: Thanks again for sticking with me this far. Again, I must tip my hat to Joe Stoppinghem, for his beta services._

_Until my next update, best wishes;_

_daccu65_


	9. Chapter 9: Coming to Grips

Chapter 9: Coming to Grips

He didn't realize exactly when he woke up, as he didn't have clear recollections of sleeping. His whole life had become unreal, a sort of walking nightmare, ever since that strange man bit him outside the bar. Now he had vague memories of people he knew he had never met and places he had never been. Not for the first time, he prayed that he was sick and experiencing fever induced delirium. He opened his eyes and realized that he didn't have that kind of luck.

He was in a dimly lit room, lying on a bed. The room was square and small, perhaps eight feet on each side. His bed lay against one of the walls. In the far wall, an open doorway led to a bathroom. The wall towards the foot of his bed held the only door, which was closed. A nightlight, near the bathroom doorway, provided the dim light. His stomach rebelled, interrupting any further contemplation on his surroundings.

He leapt out of bed and staggered into the bathroom, where he was violently sick for several minutes. After vomiting everything he recalled eating for the last several days, he noticed a plastic glass on the sink. He ran some water into the glass and rinsed out his mouth before stumbling back to his bed. Once seated again and feeling somewhat better, he noticed a light switch and turned on the lights.

Mistake!

The light stabbed his eyes with a hundred needles. He actually whimpered; reaching out blindly and turning the lights back off. Holding his head in his hands, he took several deep breaths and tried to figure out where he was at and what had happened to him. He recalled the stranger biting him; he recalled being unwilling to call the police when the stranger moved into his house. He remembered the stranger turning into some kind of large, hairy monster. He remembered the other strangers that showed up and overpowered the strange man and one of this new bunch telling him, in a kindly voice, that his nightmares had come true. Finally, he remembered the terror when his own body betrayed him, changing into a beast just like the strange man. Then the kindly man shot him with a blowgun and he was himself again, although the dart hurt like hell. After that…

He woke up here, wherever here happened to be. He stumbled back to his feet and walked around the room. He discovered that the only piece of furniture, other than the bed, was a chair sitting opposite the door, near the bed's headboard. The chair held clean and neatly folded clothing, sweats, boxers and socks, in roughly his size. The bathroom had a towel, washcloth and soap. The shower worked and had hot water available. Last, he checked the door which, he wasn't surprised to note, was locked from the outside. Finally, he noticed that there were no windows.

After dressing himself, he returned to the bed and thought things through. He came to the conclusion that whomever had left him here meant for him to stay here, while remaining fairly comfortable. He was tempted to pound on the door, but decided to keep his conscious state secret, if his nausea hadn't already announced that he was up. He sniffed and realized that he absolutely reeked. For a moment, he contemplated taking a shower before deciding that he didn't to be naked, and have his eyes full of soap, before learning more about his situation.

As if his thoughts caused his captors to take action, the door opened and a young man walked into the room. The door swung shut behind the man and the lock's click could clearly be heard. There was at least one other person outside. For a moment, he thought about attacking the newcomer, but quickly discarded the notion. For one thing, he had never been a particularly formidable fighter and for another thing, the newcomer looked both larger, and fitter, than he was.

"My name's Brian," the man said, with a tight smile. "And I suppose you have a whole lot of questions. I'll answer what I can, but I'm going to start off with a question of my own. What's your name?"

"Owen," he answered, after deciding that his captors probably had his driver's license and other identification.

"Well, Owen, you might want to brace yourself," Brian told him, claiming the chair. He set the chair next to the bathroom opening and took a seat. "This is going to get very confusing, but I'll be able to prove what I'm saying in an hour or so. Now, some around here believe in breaking a guy into this kind of slow, but I believe in letting you have the whole story, right away, so when you see what you're about to see, you'll know that I've told you the truth."

"You're a werewolf, or as we say, a lycan," Brian paused a few minutes, giving his audience a chance to protest. "You're not denying it, good. That means that you remember what happened last night."

"So I've been out of it for less than a day?" Owen asked.

"We sedated you just after moonrise last night. I'm not going to say how long we drove to get to where we are right now," Jeff told him. "I will tell you that it's about a half hour until sundown, then the moon will rise about an hour after that. It's an almost full moon, so the change will probably hit you again, but we'll be ready for it. If you haven't guessed by now, I'm a lycan, as well."

"So you can change into some giant wolf?"

"We refer to it as embracing the wolf," Brian informed him. "But to answer your question, I can't at this moment. You see the sun is up and something about the sunlight prevents us from making the change. The building we're in doesn't block enough of the…agent…in sunlight to allow me to change at this time. Now, if I were in a deep mine, yes, I could. I'll be able to change after the sun goes down, as well."

"Will the nearly full moon force you to change?"

"I'm glad you asked," Brian answered, with a compassionate grin. "The answer is no, and the reason is that I've been a lycan long enough to change, or to resist changing, at will. You've only been a lycan for a few days, and you're experiencing your first full moon cycle. For at least some time, it varies with each individual, you'll be at the mercy of the wolf within you; you'll change with the moon cycle and you won't be able to control yourself when the wolf takes over."

"That's why we brought you here," Brian continued. "I won't tell you where _**here**_ is, but you'll see that it's a very rural area. You're surrounded by other lycans, and we'll be able to contain and control you when the wolf takes over. We'll help you to reach a harmony with the wolf inside, so that you can embrace it or reject it as you need."

"You're doing this to help me?" Owen asked, confusion evident on his face.

"Actually no. We're doing this for our own benefit. You see if humanity were to learn that we really exist…well…lets just say that it wouldn't go very well for either the normal humans, or us. I think humanity would feel threatened and attack us and we, of course, would be obligated to fight back. It's best for everyone if we keep a low profile."

"What was with that needle thing that guy shot me with? It turned me back."

"That's the other weakness we have, silver," Brian told him. "If silver comes in contact with your blood, you'll be forced into your human form. Also, you are now very susceptible to silver poisoning. Granted, a human doesn't react well to silver in his bloodstream, but you will react even worse."

"Okay, so all the movies were right about that. Nothing but silver will hurt me?"

"Almost the truth," Brian smiled. "Silver isn't instant death, like on some movies and television shows. Rather, silver is an intense irritant. Being poked by even something as small as a silver needle causes us a great deal of agony. As for other things, accidents, bullets, knives and fists, they injure us, but we heal very quickly. As long as you keep yourself fed, even severe lacerations and broken bones heal in minutes, hours at the worst."

Even in the dim light, Brian could see Owen take on a greenish hue. "I don't much feel like eating," the confused man told the lycan. "I just finished throwing up everything in my stomach."

"That's another adjustment you're going to have to make," Brian chuckled. "You can't eat normal food anymore. You can only take nourishment from blood." Brian paused while the other man turned green again. "It's not as bad as it sounds, you'll get used to it. Your system can't handle the other stuff anymore, so it kicked back everything still in your digestive tract. That's why your stomach made a valiant effort to send your toenails out."

"Eventually, you'll get to the point where you can swallow regular food," Brian continued. "Even though you won't gain any benefit from it, it will just pass right on through. This is one of the last skills you'll need to master before you can leave here."

"Why would I need to fake eating?"

"To make everyone think that you're normal, just like everyone else. It's kind of hard to deal with friends, neighbors and coworkers if they never see you eat. I just came back from ten years in the Army and trust me, my buddies would have known something was up if I didn't dig in every chance I had."

"If we can only consume blood, how did you manage to get it, and not make everyone suspicious?"

"That's a long story," Brian told him. "And it's probably not something we need to get into right now. For now, lets just say that you're going to have to stay here for at least a few years, until you're able to blend in and not be a danger to those around you."

"A few years?" Owen stammered. "B-but what about my parents, my girlfriend? Has anyone told them? Do they know where I am, or that I'm alive?"

"I'm afraid not," Brian informed him, with a sad expression. "They must never know what happened to you, or that you're still alive."

"But…"

"Owen, I know that this is extremely difficult for you. I'm sorry that I can't understand how hard it is, since I was born a lycan and my parents live right here. Please try to understand that everybody benefits by everyone believing that you're gone. You aren't human anymore. I honestly wish that I could make you human again and send you back to your old life, but I just can't. Nobody can. The only thing you can do is make the best of things, and that means coming to grips with what you've become. Like it or not, you've become a very powerful individual; a danger to yourself and those around you."

"This can't be happening to me," Owen moaned, dropping his face into his hands.

"I'm afraid it is. Now, I'm going to leave and come back in about an hour. I suggest you hit the shower, you'll feel better after getting cleaned up. After that, I'll show you around the place and we'll get ready for moonrise."

* * *

While Brian was having his conversation with Owen, John was having a decidedly less pleasant conversation with the lycan who had turned the young man. Where Herzl had willingly joined the pack, realizing the wisdom in the pack's attitude, this new guy, Gottfreid, had a different attitude altogether.

"So you live here in comfort," the ragged man snarled at the elder. "While the bloods slaughter your brothers in Europe."

"I've built a life for my pack," John replied, struggling to keep his voice and manner calm. "And I'm offering you that life."

"By shooting me with a silver dart?" Gottfreid demanded. "By dragging me to the devil knows where, shackling me," the man held up his radio receiver shackle. "And telling me you'll shoot me full of silver if I try to leave?"

"I saved your life," John snapped back. "And my pack's, as well. You were being stupid, letting people see you acting up. How long would it have been before one of the bloods figured out what you were, or worse, a human?"

"The only thing the bald sheep are good for are food and underlings," Gottfreid sneered back. "I turned little Owen. How many humans have you turned in the last year? Or have you been too busy daydreaming out here in the countryside to advance your race?"

"I advance my race by taking care of the packmates on this continent," John growled. "Not by jumping into worthless turf wars and convincing myself that I'm superior to my fellow man!"

"You are no better than the bald sheep. You cower here and tell yourself that you're doing the right thing by ignoring your own kin!"

"I'm helping my kin!" John roared.

"Then why don't you lead them against the bloods?" Gottfreid demanded. "Why does this New World Coven still exist!"

"Because even if I crushed it, that would let the humans know about us! Idiot, I can't fight two hundred million humans in the U.S. alone, even if I wanted to!"

"Bah! You're just making excuses! If you were a true elder, like Lucian was, you wouldn't need me telling you this!"

"THAT attitude is what got you chased out of Europe! Tell me, Gottfreid, if you're such the wise leader and commander, why did you clear out of Europe with your tail between your legs?"

"I don't have the power you have here! I was only one, while I've smelled dozens of packmates here. How many do you have scattered, hiding, all through this country? You have the power to do something but you're too cowardly to use it!"

"How do you think we got our numbers, assets and skill? By NOT getting ourselves involved in stupid, pointless fighting, that's how!"

"Excuses, that's all you have! I'll never bow down to you. Better dead with the taste of your enemy's blood in your mouth, than living with the taste of bile and fear!"

"You'll get that chance," John informed him, standing up with a weary sigh and trudging to the fence.

"What do you mean?" Gottfreid demanded. "When do I get this shackle off?"

"You'll get it off tonight," John told him, unlocking the gate and stepping through. "Since you want to face your fate as a lycan, I'll give you that chance. If I were you, I'd finish off the blood and get some rest, you'll need your energy."

John locked the gate behind him and made sure a guard was present to keep an eye on Gottfreid. It was against his nature, both primate and lupine, to do what he was going to do tonight, but he had to protect his pack.

* * *

"I see you've taken advantage of the shower," Brian remarked, stepping into Owen's quarters. The lycan chose to not consider the two rooms a prison.

"I can't say that I'm ready to believe everything you told me," the new lycan admitted. "But I thought I might as well be clean."

"Not believing me is a good move," Brian tossed a pair of flip-flops onto the bed next to his charge. "I'd say that you should only believe what you see but in our case, believe half of what you see. Put on the footwear, we're going outside."

"Okay, how do I know you're not taking me off somewhere to kill me?" Owen demanded, pointing at the other man.

"That's actually a fair question," Brian admitted, pointing back at Owen. "**You** have to ask **yourself** how I'm benefiting by doing what I'm doing. You're locked up right now so if my kin and I wanted to kill you, we could do it right here. You said you needed answers, this is the quickest way of getting them."

Owen decided that he might as well look around, so he put on the sandals and followed Brian. The self-proclaimed werewolf…lycan…led him down a short hallway and up a flight of steps. A door at the top of the steps let the two men outside, into the evening. Looking around, Owen came to the conclusion that he was at some sort of farm, or ranch. A lifelong city dweller, he didn't really know for sure.

Brian directed him down a sidewalk and gestured for him to climb into the passenger side of a pickup. Brian took a seat behind the wheel while another man jumped into the pickup's bed.

"That's Jeff, by the way," Brian told his passenger, with a gesture at the back. "He's my father."

"I don't believe you," Owen told him, after a moment's thought. "There's no way he's old enough to be your father."

"The aging process slows way down once you become an immortal," Brian grinned back at him, starting up the pickup and driving down a dirt road. Soon, they left the cluster of farm buildings behind and drove perhaps a mile, to where half a dozen men waited near a fence. Brian parked the vehicle and gestured for Owen to climb out. The captive did so and was quickly joined by Jeff and Brian, who led him to the other men. Brian introduced him.

Although Owen was acutely aware of the fact that he was a captive, the men treated him like a guest, shaking his hand and telling him their names. He remembered Dell, Fred, Bob, Carl, Jerry, and Lee. In the short time it took for the men to introduce themselves, the sun retreated even further below the horizon. Brian walked up to the fence and jumped over. The other men, with the exception of Jeff, followed suit. All of the men looked at Owen.

"Go ahead," Brian told him. Owen just looked at the man. The fence was chest high, there was no way he was going to be able to just hop over it, the way the preceding seven men had done.

"You're a lycan now," Brian explained. "You'll be able to jump over the fence with no trouble, but if you want, just grab one of the posts and use it to help you."

Uncertain, Owen followed his instructions and surprised himself by easily jumping over the barrier. Jeff remained outside the fence, which Owen could now see formed one wall of a square enclosure, roughly two hundred yards on a side. Studying his surroundings, Owen realized that a cow cowered in the far corner.

"Okay, the answers start now," Brian told the confused man. "I'll have Carl here demonstrate."

The aforementioned man yanked off his clothing and stood for a moment, naked. Suddenly, his body writhed and grew, forming into one of the monsters that Owen had been trying to convince himself he didn't remember.

"Carl is able to embrace the wolf at will," Brian explained, while Owen stared, slack-jawed. "While in this form, he's much stronger and faster than he is in his human form. Even now, your senses of smell and hearing have been enhanced. Carl, however, now has a wolf's senses in this regard. At this moment, he depends on his sense of smell more than vision. Carl, please demonstrate restraining the wolf."

The great beast that Carl had become stood still and took a deep breath. Moments later, it shrunk and compacted and soon Carl stood naked in front of them again.

"Now, pick any three of these men," Brian told Owen. "The only ones you can't pick are myself and my father."

Owen picked Dell, Bob and Jerry. All three men stripped off their clothing and embraced the wolf, as Carl put his clothing on. Soon, three werewolves stood in the enclosure.

"Now for some demonstrations," Brian told his horrified, yet curious, charge. "Gentlemen, if you will…"

As Owen watched, the three, transformed men showed off their incredible agility, able to vault high over the fence and sprint around the entire enclosure in a matter of seconds. The strength demonstration was even more impressive; any two of the werewolves were able to lift the front end of the pickup completely off of the ground. Owen was so entranced that he didn't notice that the cow was now completely horrified, or the silvery light growing in the eastern sky. As the first moonbeam struck him, however, it seized his attention.

"He's changing!" Brian yelled to his three, human-formed companions. "Help me."

As Owen writhed in pain, the three men pulled the loose clothing off of his body. "Owen," Brian addressed the naked man. "The wolf is rising. Don't fight it, it's going to win. Just go with it, it'll be easier for you."

Owen's pain-contorted face stared at him, even while his body shifted and slowly altered. Brian could tell that he was trying to listen, trying to find some solace. "We'll be here," Brian assured the frightened man. "We'll make sure you don't hurt anybody. Tomorrow morning, you'll wake up in your bed and we'll talk about it."

Despite his pain, Owen managed a slight nod and he relaxed as much as he could while in such pain. Without him resisting, the wolf rose to the fore much faster. Moment's later, a full-grown lycan stood before the rest of the pack.

Brian looked carefully at his charge. Owen didn't have the spark of recognition in his eyes, the way the more experienced lycans did. No, the wolf had taken over completely, at least for now. Owen looked around, gaining his bearings. Brian could tell that he was hungry, needing energy to counter the stress from the last several days. The beast looked at him, clearly not recognizing him. Next, the beast looked over the rest of the kin, recognizing them as his own kind, but not acknowledging any sort of friendship or familiarity. Finally, its eyes fell on the terrified cow.

Owen and the rest of the pack fed well after his first kill. Afterwards, the rest of the lycans led him on a long run over the hills and prairies. They finished the run back at the ranch, where the rising sun subdued Owen's inner wolf. The rest of the kin led the confused, but content man back to his room for a few hours of sleep.

* * *

While Brian was introducing Owen to the lycan life, John was having a much less enjoyable experience. As the moon made its appearance over the horizon, two kinsmen ushered Gottfreid into the same yard where he had had his heated discussion with John, earlier. This time, there was no table, no chairs and no pitcher of refreshments. Even as the hotheaded young lycan opened his mouth to protest his shackle, the kinsmen removed it.

"You said that I was a coward and that you had the rightful plan," John addressed him, from the other side of the enclosure. "You said that I should look upon my fellow man, whom you call bald sheep, as food and battle-fodder. You said that I should strike down the bloods. I consider all of these remarks to be both insulting, and a challenge to my leadership. You have one final choice, either apologize for your insolence and submit to my leadership, or face me now, lycan against lycan!"

"I'll never submit to a coward!" Gottfreid snarled.

"Then defend yourself!" John roared back, showing rage for the first time. The lycan elder tore off his clothing and embraced the wolf inside.

Gottfreid didn't bother removing his clothing, he allowed the transformation to shred the flimsy cotton. Soon he was a dark-haired lycan, facing off against a silvery beast. Around the enclosure, several kinsmen and kinswomen also embraced the wolf, but remained outside. Gottfreid understood; this was between him and his opponent. While the remainder of the pack would stay outside the fence, they would rend him if he attempted to flee. It was just as well; he had no intention of fleeing.

The two combatants sized each other up for several, endless seconds. Without warning, Gottfreid hurled himself at the silvery lycan. The dark-haired monster spread his arms wide, seeking to seize his foe and pull the warm body to his slavering jaws for a killing bite. Yet, his claws met no body and he found himself sprawled on the ground, with a muzzle full of dust.

Gottfreid had been in enough scrapes, he knew that lying still was inviting death. He snapped to his feet and spun, locating his opponent and setting himself. It was then that the scent of his blood reached his muzzle. A moment later, he felt wetness along his left flank and realized how much trouble he was in. The cowardly elder had ghosted away from his claws, opened up his flank and tripped him.

Lesson learned. Gottfreid slid towards his opponent again, this time with more control. The angry lycan unleashed a series of claw-swipes at the elder, trying to shred his opponent, but the silvery lycan wouldn't cooperate. Every time Gottfreid swung at him, his tormentor extended a forepaw and blocked Gottfreid's strike, by digging his claws into Gottfreid's forelimbs. In a matter of minutes, Gottfreid was gasping for breath and his forelimbs had been shredded, the flesh hanging in bloody tatters.

Desperate, Gottfreid lunged at his opponent again. At this close range, the elder couldn't avoid the blow. Yet, once again, Gottfreid's caught only air. The crafty elder dropped to his back and brought his hind legs under his opponent's rump, sending the younger lycan flying over him while raking the hothead's torso with his claws. John sprang to his feet and spun to watch his opponent struggle to his feet.

Blood was pouring out of the younger lycan's body, clearly he couldn't stand much longer. John relaxed his stance slightly, a universal signal that he would still accept his opponent's submission. Gottfreid would have none of it; he bared his fangs one last time and lumbered forward in a final charge. This time, John took the offensive.

The silvery lycan slashed his claws down upon the oncoming muzzle, opening flesh once again and leaving his opponent stunned on the ground. John reached down and used a single claw to open an artery in Gottfreid's neck. Showing his strength, the elder lycan lifted his opponent over his head and arched his head back, catching the last of Gottfreid's lifeblood. Finally, the opponent vanquished, John dropped the lifeless body to the ground and emitted a triumphant howl, a howl that the rest of the pack joined in.

John basked in a single moment of conquest, before taking a deep breath and returning to his human form. The rest of the pack quickly assumed their human forms, as well.

"Burn his body," John ordered, tears forming in his eyes. "And record his name as a gallant, but misguided kinsman. I'll meet with the full staff tomorrow, two hours after sunup."

While his kinsmen rushed to comply, John stalked off alone to try to come to grips with what he had just done.

* * *

_Again, I must thank everyone who has stuck with me for this, my first Underworld Fanfic. I must especially thank everyone who has taken the time to post a review, and/or contact me via PM. The suggestions and comments are most helpful._

_My fondest thanks to Joe Stoppinghem, for his continued beta services._

_Until my next update, best wishes;_

_daccu65_


	10. Chapter 10 The New Reality

* * *

Chapter 10: The New Reality

"So, what did I do last night?" Owen hesitantly asked Brian, as the two lycans stepped into the sunlight.

"What can you remember? Tell me and I'll try to fill in the blanks."

"I remember you having some of the guys switching back and forth into and out of wol…er…lycan form," Owen answered, pausing as he struggled to remember. "I remember meeting your father and jumping over a fence that I shouldn't have been able to jump over. I remember the change hitting me…"

"And…" Brian prompted.

"I…don't remember. I have vague glimpses, sort of like the memories I have of places I know I've never been and people I know I've never met."

"Okay, those memories are what we call residual memories. It happens when you've been turned, and when you feed from another human. When Gottfreid bit you, you acquired a glimpse of his most powerful emotions. You can't make much sense out of them, because you don't have the experience to do so. Don't feel bad, I can't either. It takes centuries to master the skills behind memory transfer. Now, I'm more interested in the glimpses you received from what you did last night."

"I seem to remember feeling…strong and invincible…but I knew the rest of you were stronger than me. I remember taking out my…aggression…on a," Owen blushed with embarrassment. "On a cow."

"We all had a good feed," Brian smiled. "That's also why we dragged you out into a rural setting, it allowed you to stretch your legs and make a kill without endangering anyone."

"Okay, then I seem to remember a lot of air running through my hair and feeling free." Owen's blush was replaced with an almost dreamy smile. He was feeling joy for the first time, since becoming a lycan.

"We ran for miles," Brian confirmed. "It was good for you, a way for you to burn off that lycan energy without anyone outside the pack knowing about it."

"So, will I change again tonight?"

"I'd say you have about an even chance," Brian told him. "You won't be hungry for several days, since you fed yesterday. That's another advantage of being an immortal. Unless you're injured, you don't have to feed very often."

"You used the term 'immortals' yesterday, as well as today," Owen pointed out. "Are there immortals other than us, other than lycans?"

"Yes, there are," Brian told him. The former soldier guided his charge towards a pair of lawn chairs, under a shade tree. Once the two were seated, he continued his lecture. "There are two forms of immortals; us and the vampires. If you hear one of us talk about the 'bloods', we're not talking about a California gang, we're talking about vampires."

"Vampires? What else is out there? Dragons, pixies, leprechauns?"

"If there are, I've never seen one," Brian chuckled. "Of course, just because I haven't seen one doesn't mean that they don't exist. To the best of my knowledge, there's just us and the bloods."

"Gottfreid, the guy who bit me, talked about them," Brian said. "He seemed to hate them with a passion."

"Our two species don't get along," Brian told him. "We've been at war, for want of a better term, for centuries. I won't say who's at fault, because I don't really know. I know that our elder was once their slave, back in Europe."

"So I'm going to have to fight them?"

"I hope not," Brian told him. "There has never been a pitched battle between lycan and vampire, in North America. You see; they don't even realize that this pack exists. We go to painful lengths to keep our presence secret, to blend in with the human population."

"That's why you came and picked me up!" Owen interrupted. "If I had gone out of control, in suburban Topeka, the vampires would have realized that there was a lycan on the loose!"

"The regular humans would have realized it, as well,' Brian confirmed. "We aren't able to pick up every stray packmate. Sometimes the bloods get to him first and kill him."

"So where do the bloods live?"

"They have some mansions in New Orleans," Brian told him. "And they have some other properties, scattered around. We keep a couple of kinsmen in New Orleans, sniffing them out and watching them, as best we can. We don't take aggressive actions against them, but if they get too close to one of our properties, we eliminate them and try to hide the evidence, as best we can. To the best of our knowledge, the bloods think that there are a few, unorganized lycans on the continent, but don't realize how many of us there are, or how well organized we are."

"I've gotten a glimpse of what makes us lycans unique, what about the vampires?"

"I'm glad you asked. We have certain advantages over the bloods, and they have advantages over us. Bare in mind, I've never actually fought one, so I have to count on what the older packmates tell me. First of all, the bloods aren't vulnerable to crosses, holy water, garlic and other such stuff. They are vulnerable to sunlight, much more than we are. While sunlight forces us into our human forms, it actually burns them up."

"Just like some movies," Owen mused. "How about a stake through the heart?"

"Yeah, a thick stake through the heart will kill a blood, but keep in mind that a thick stake through the heart will kill you, as well."

"Okay, I can understand," Owen actually chuckled for the first time since arriving at Farrier Ranch. "What else can you tell me?"

"A blood is stronger and faster than our human form, but not as strong and fast as our lycan form. Keep in mind that this only goes for bloods about your age. Bloods and lycans grow stronger with time, so an elder vampire is a good sight stronger and faster than you are. Also, we always have a bit of heightened senses, such as smell and hearing even now, in our human forms. The bloods don't seem to have anything to counter that."

"Okay, so if we have the advantage over the bloods, and we're in a sort of war, why haven't the lycans defeated the vampires?"

"It's not that easy," Brian paused a moment to gather his thoughts. "The big advantage that the bloods have over us is that they become effective more quickly after turning. Owen, you're looking at several years, maybe a decade, before you'll be able to leave this ranch for more than a few hours. It takes that long to control your aggression. When the sun's down, you won't be able to control your changes and you won't be able to control yourself when the wolf takes over."

"So I'm sort of like a smart-mouthed teenager, who needs to be smacked down every once in awhile?"

"That's a good example," Brian smiled at him. "You're going to have to come to terms with your new condition. By all accounts, the bloods have a quicker, easier time. Last night, if you weren't out in an isolated environment and accompanied by us, you would have looked for humans to attack. From what the older packmates tell me, a vampire gets a grip on his condition a lot quicker, maybe a matter of weeks or months. When you get down to it, a blood is more capable than a lycan, at least initially while lycans have more potential. The key, for us, is staying alive long enough to realize it."

"So the lycans have to put in a greater investment in each new…recruit…before they see a payoff?"

"That's a very good way of describing it," Brian nodded. "So the loss of one of us hits us harder than the bloods."

"Do we…er, the pack, select people to bite and turn?"

"No," Brian shook his head. "What happened to you was a grave injustice. We don't condone biting our regular human cousins. This might sound odd, but it just isn't worth it. Very few people have the…factor…that allows them to embrace immortality. It isn't easy to resist biting humans, that's why we make sure we're well fed before leaving the ranch."

"If you…we…frown on this, how does the pack replenish its numbers?"

"Not all lycans have the restraint that we teach our young," Brian explained. "Inevitably, a few packmates will either flee this pack, or flee Europe, and we can't always track them down before they turn somebody. When that happens, we have a potential packmate. When you look at it, we operate similar to the way the Shakers used to."

"Who are the Shakers?"

"A religious group that history has almost forgotten. They believe in complete celibacy, so the only way they have to replenish their numbers is recruitment. Not many adults ever wanted to join, so the Shakers used to run orphanages. They raised the children that nobody else wanted and, for decades, enough of these kids grew up to become Shakers, themselves."

"So, the pack will raise me, so to speak, in hopes that I'll pay off?"

"Exactly. Now we do have other ways of reproducing. We can make young just like our normal, human cousins do, but it's a whole lot less certain. My parents were married for over forty years, and were pretty affectionate the whole time, before I came along. Put bluntly, natural birthing cannot replace those we loose to accidents and encounters with the bloods."

"How about normal humans?" Owen asked. "Are there intermarriages and…interbreeding?"

"The short answer is yes," Brian told him. "But it's very limited. First of all, we have to be very careful about marrying into normal human society. We don't age, so people become curious. Secondly, the pack demands honesty with our mates, so you really have to trust a potential wife. Finally, we remain very…unprolific. According to our records, we have only had a dozen marriages with humans, and they have only produced four children. Two of these children are lycan, the other two were human."

"Okay, so the pack has every reason to turn me into a productive lycan. I understand that it's going to take a lot of instruction and practice. What do I do in the meantime?"

"We're going to have to figure that out," Brian told him. "What did you do for a living?"

"I was a midlevel manager at an insurance company."

"What did you do at the ground level, you know, where did you work your way up from?"

"I was a risk assessor. I took a client's information and assessed his risk."

"Okay, you were a bit of a number cruncher?"

"That's a pretty fair assessment."

"Okay, we may be able to make use of that. The pack has certain assets; properties, real estate, and things like that. Now, we don't know you well enough to trust you, yet. In the meantime, we'll put you to work."

"What will you have me do?"

"You're going to learn how to mend fences, tend cattle, cut hay, generally be a country boy."

"When do I start?"

"Right now," Brian snickered. "Two of our kinsmen are bringing in hay. You don't need skill, just a strong back, to toss bales."

Brian led Owen across the yard towards a large barn. Suddenly, the new lycan stopped cold. "I…can smell Gottfreid's blood," he declared. "I can smell…death. What happened here?"

"Something I wish I didn't have to tell you," Brian sighed. "Gottfreid wouldn't work with us. He insisted that our way of life was wrong and that we should destroy the bloods and feed off of humanity. Because he was such a danger to the pack, our elder met him in individual combat and destroyed him."

"So if I don't play along, you kill me, as well?"

"It's a hard fact, but yes," Brian told the younger man. "I didn't want to tell you since I didn't want to intimidate you into compliance. The fact is if that loudmouth had gotten free and started acting like some sort of Mafia boss, the bloods would have tracked him down. I know the type, he would have sold us out if they caught him."

"And the bloods would have come here?"

"That's not the worst part," Brian told him. "We're well defended here. We can hold the bloods off long enough to scatter to other strongholds. The big problem is that the bloods would have known that we have an organized presence on the continent. They would start looking for us." Brian looked at his companion with pity. "Like it or not, your fate is tied up with the pack's. I hope you realize that our elder didn't enjoy killing Gottfreid. He did it for the good of our kind."

"Who is our elder?"

"His name is John. You've already met him."

"Oh, I don't recall him from last night."

"He's they guy who shot you with that silver dart back in Topeka. He's the man who told you that some of your nightmares had come true."

"He seemed more like a kindly father than a war leader."

"That's how he prefers to act. He doesn't like killing other lycans, so that's what makes it even harder for him when it becomes necessary."

"Where is he now?"

"He's meeting with his staff. After killing another lycan, he buries himself in work."

Owen had a lot on his mind as he spent the rest of the afternoon unloading and stacking bales, with another new member named Herzl.

* * *

"Okay everyone, everybody knows what happened last night, so there's no need to review it," John told his assembled staff. John stood at the head of a long table, around which the five members of his staff sat. "With the situation in Eastern Europe affecting us rather keenly, and having the potential to affect us even more, I'm going to start out the meeting with the deuce. P2, please give your report."

A seemingly young woman, who gave any observer the impression of a studious schoolteacher, stood up and walked to the end of the table opposite John, as the elder took his seat.

"Kinswomen and kinsmen," she addressed the group. "Most of you have heard rumors of the conflict in Europe. Here is what we know. First, we know that Ordoghaz, the center of the bloods' power in Eastern Europe has burned to the ground. We also know that Amelia, Victor and Lucian are dead."

"How firm is this information?" One of the men at the table asked, as the others sat dumbfounded.

"One of our new recruits, Herzl, personally observed Amelia's and Victor's deaths and Lucian's body," she answered. "Our elder confirmed these claims through Gottfreid's blood memories. Hungarian television reported the fire several weeks ago. This, however, isn't the most disturbing news."

"Herzl's testimony, confirmed by Gottfreid's blood memories, tells us that Lucian was attempting to merge the immortal races, forming a hybrid with neither race's weaknesses. While neither of these kinsmen knew how Lucian intended to accomplish this, they know that he succeeded. Somehow, Lucian turned his subject, Michael, into such a hybrid."

"The second piece of disturbing news," she continued, silencing the murmuring around the table. "Is that one of Victor's own Death Dealers killed him. While we do not have consistent contact with our European kin, we have been able to debrief the occasional refugee, over the centuries. This information has led us to believe that Selene was the Death Dealer who killed Victor." She paused for effect, "Our records indicate that she was fiercely loyal to him right up to the time she killed him."

"The final piece of disturbing news," she concluded, once again silencing the gossip. "Is that the Cleaners appear to have vanished. While we never understood their motivation, we benefited from their efforts to keep the general, human population from knowing about the immortals. Various Eastern European news sources are reporting odd bodies and sightings, consistent with lycans and bloods. These reports have increased in the last few weeks, since the elders' deaths and Ordoghaz's destruction."

"What are your conclusions?" John asked.

"I conclude that there has been a major upheaval in the bloods' ruling structure," she informed her elder. "Not only have we confirmed that two of the elders are dead, I suspect that Marcus is either dead or incapacitated. If Marcus were in control, I think he would eliminate the risky behavior that the European bloods are taking."

"In other words, nobody is in control of the European bloods and turf wars are breaking out," John chimed in.

"That's my analysis," she agreed. "I conclude that our European kin are doing much the same. The packs are fighting each other, as the individual leaders are attempting to consolidate power. This is in addition to the normal, intra-species skirmishing taking place."

"Okay, it's time for the big picture," John announced. "How does this affect us?"

"This situation constitutes the greatest danger to this pack in my two centuries of life," she declared. "These two factors, the loss of leadership and the loss of the Cleaners, compound each other. At the very moment when the loss of leadership causes the underworld war to degenerate into chaos, the very organization that suppresses the evidence vanishes. Should the general population become aware of the European immortals, it will only be a matter of time until we are discovered."

"What actions do you suggest?" John prompted.

"At the moment, we can do little more than monitor the situation," she answered. "If we attempt to affect the European conflict, we risk the very exposure we're trying to prevent. My recommendations are to increase our surveillance of US and Canadian ports of entry and to place covert assets in Eastern Europe, to gain more information. We have no knowledge about the immortal factions present nor their intentions."

"We don't know about this hybrid, either," one of the men at the table declared. "What is he capable of and how does he affect all of this?"

"According to Gottfreid's blood memories," the P2 answered, with a nod towards John. "He is very capable. Minutes after becoming a hybrid he was able to hold his own, for a short time, against Victor himself."

"Don't underestimate that accomplishment," John chimed in. "I don't think that I could handle Victor. This young man has incredible potential. Carry on."

"Yes, elder. He was last seen leaving with Selene, the death dealer. The two appeared to be very affectionate towards each other when they left Lucian's den. This development, an obvious emotional attachment between a known, dedicated Death Dealer and an individual with untapped potential, is also highly troubling. As a worst case scenario, we can assume that the two of them are making some sort of attempt to seize control of the vampire coven. The fact that Selene killed Victor seems to support this theory."

She let the implications from this possibility sink in for a moment before continuing, "on the other end of the spectrum, we can assume that Selene and this hybrid are also refugees, who fled to escape the chaos. The fact that we have no reliable sightings of the two seems to support this theory. All in all, the two represent a potent, unknown factor in the current equation."

"Okay, fair enough," John motioned for her to retake her seat. "Now that we've all been formally briefed, I need some plans of action. P3?"

The man who had been asking the P2 the most questions stood up. "We have the assets to eliminate the New World Coven, if we need to," he declared. "And we have multiple operational plans all written up. However, I agree with the P2 in that such decisive action would only call unwanted attention, from both the general population and the European bloods. I suggest we concentrate our surveillance efforts on seaports. We know that the bloods do not like to travel by airliner and our own, European cousins usually don't have the resources or documentation to do so."

"In addition," he continued. "I suspect that any blood refugees will head straight to the New World Coven. My suggestion is that we increase our surveillance there. We know that the coven has properties throughout the continent, so they may try to settle refugees into these properties. That may give us the opportunity to map these out."

"Very well, I approve," John told him. "I want a full plan of action by tomorrow afternoon. P1?"

Another woman took her place at the end of the table, as the P3 returned to his seat. The P1 discussed the pack's members, producing charts showing which members were approaching the time they would have to be shuffled. She also detailed which pack members were due for another enlistment and which were do for higher education. The P2 and P3 joined in the discussion, since the shuffling of personnel affected their areas of responsibility. Finally, the P1 finished her report and returned to her seat, making way for the P4.

The P4 produced charts detailing the ranch's blood production and the efforts needed to keep the pack, both on the ranch and away, supplied with this commodity. He concluded that the lycan's herds could produce enough blood to feed a lycan population fifty percent greater than the pack's current numbers. Secondly, he reviewed weapon production. Finally, he reviewed the pack's assets and wealth. "We can purchase a diary ranch, in Austria, if we wish to do so," he concluded. "While this isn't a large ranch and the national laws require us to employ Austrian nationals, I estimate that we will be able to supply three kinsmen from this herd. This will give us a forward supply point, if the P2 puts an asset in Eastern Europe."

John readily agreed to this purchase, instructing the P4 to pursue the negotiations. A few minutes later, he dismissed his staff members. Killing Gottfreid had been hard on him but he had gained precious knowledge. He was ready to guide the pack through these tumultuous times, as long as no more surprises cropped up.

* * *

"So what are we going to gain by visiting this particular ranch?" Erika demanded, as the two stepped out of the car and approached the farmhouse.

"I believe that this is the next step on our journey, metaphorically speaking of course," Tanis answered. "This is the address the Montana rancher, who had stayed that fateful night in Tennessee, left at the motel."

"I know that!" Erika snapped. "But what are we hoping to accomplish?"

"To let him know we're here, of course," Tanis smiled.

"What if he's a lycan?"

"I'm counting on that."

"What!" Erika sputtered, then held her tongue as Tanis rang the doorbell.

There was a several minute delay before the rancher answered the door. A surprised look crossed his face for only a moment before he addressed his visitors.

"Hello," he said. "Are you folks lost? It isn't often that I get company out here after dark."

"My apologies, my good man," Tanis replied, emphasizing his European accent. "We're investigative reporters, working on a piece about a nature-loving cult. This cult was possibly involved in an incident, in Tennessee, when you were there to purchase a bull. Would you mind answering some questions?"

The rancher invited them in, seated them at his kitchen table and served them some coffee. He explained that his wife was visiting relatives, leaving him alone in the house, before answering all of their questions about the incident that the duo had discussed with the sheriff a few days earlier. After a little more than an hour of conversation, the young rancher rose to his feet.

"I have to be up early tomorrow," he explained. "So I have to be in bed soon. I wish you all the luck in the world with your article, but I honestly don't know anything about any kind of beast-cult."

The two vampires left their untouched coffee on the table and thanked the man. "We'll be staying here for the next several days," Tanis told him, giving him the address of the house, with the concrete floor and windowless basement, in the nearest town. "If you can remember anything else, please let us know. If we can't find out anything more, we'll have to continue our search elsewhere."

"So did you learn anything?" Erika asked her companion, as she drove them back to town.

"He's a lycan, alright," Tanis smiled.

"How do you know?"

"It was when he answered the door," Tanis explained. "He caught our scent and knew we were vampires, or bloods, like the lycans call us."

"So why didn't you present him with our request for sanctuary?"

"Because he, and his pack, aren't fools. That poor bloke is some sort of front man. I have no doubt that the lycans have placed him at that location so that any investigations come to him, giving him a good chance to look over the investigators. He knew we were vampires, but he didn't know if we were acting on our own, if we knew he was a lycan, or if we were being watched." The historian snorted. "He even tried to entice us into attacking him."

"How's that?"

"He made sure that we knew that he was alone. Maybe he really was alone, I don't know. If we were simply a pair of restless youngsters out for a bit of poaching, we would have taken him once we realized he was alone. THAT would have proven a fatal surprise, I'm sure."

"Anyway," Tanis shook the idea of two, inexperienced vampires suddenly running into a lycan out of his head. "He took several minutes to answer the door; probably using that time to sniff us out for weapons. Once he knew we weren't armed, he indicated to us that he was vulnerable, to see how predisposed towards violence we were. Had we attacked him, being nothing more than a couple of poachers, we would have never returned to the coven."

"Okay, he knows we're vampires," Erika concluded. "Now what do we do?"

"We return to our house, of course," Tanis informed her. "After we feed, that is. The variety of agricultural endeavors around here gives us a great deal of potential variety. Do you feel like beef, mutton or whatever the correct term for llama blood happens to be?"

"Why feed? We fed last night. I'm good for another week."

"Another lesson about life on the run," Tanis lectured. "Feed as often as you can. You never know when the next moment will bring on a serious wound. Keep your energy reserves at their peak, so you are prepared to heal at all times."

"Is it really that dangerous?"

"Absolutely," Tanis no longer had his usual sense of humor. "The lycans are going to be deadly serious. I'm suspecting that they will try to investigate us, find out if we're alone, before capturing us for questioning. At that point, we should be able to trade information for sanctuary."

"What if they decide we're some sort of scouts or spies?"

"Then they'll either avoid us or destroy us."

"Tanis," Erika glared at her companion. "I'm beginning to wish I had never met you."

"Quite all right, my dear," he answered, his droll sense of humor once again re-asserting itself. "I quite often wish I never gotten to know myself. Ah! I see an untended flock of sheep up ahead. How about a quick…daycap…before we turn in?"

* * *

_A/N: I know that I sound like a broken record, but I really appreciate everyone who has continued to read this story. Again, my fondest thanks to Joe Stoppinghem, for his beta services. _

_Until my next update, best wishes;_

_daccu65_


	11. Chapter 11: Making Contact

Chapter 11: Making contact

"Thank you very much, Sheriff," Michael called over his shoulder, as he and Selene left the man's office. "Well, that was productive," he offered his companion.

"Finding out that Tanis was here and that he received a Montana Rancher's address is a major breakthrough," Selene agreed. "Now, I get to see more of this country than I was expecting."

"Somehow, I get the feeling that we're missing something," Michael grumbled. His only answer was an arched eyebrow.

"Okay," he said, by way of explanation. "Tanis is on the run, he tried to finger you for the elders' deaths, probably thinking that Marcus would kill us, and that fell apart for him. Now, why would he be interested in that altered weapon and why would he make up some story about a beast cult?"

"The beast cult would explain the altered weapon," Selene informed him. "And his story about a mask, with a muzzle, would also describe a lycan's physical characteristics."

"Okay, but why would he be interested in the Montana rancher?" Michael asked. "He could have asked the questions as a way to throw us off of his trail."

"I don't think so," Selene mused. "Tanis is looking for something. He showed a great deal of interest in lycan sightings, then he heads straight for a location where a weapon, which may have been modified for a lycan to use against another lycan, had been found. Now he's showing interest in someone who was in the area during a night that witnesses reported a disturbance that could have been a lycan fight."

"Do you think he's trying to track down a lycan?" Tanis asked. "For that matter, who modified the weapon for a lycan to use?"

"Probably the lycan who owned the weapon. Did you forget all of your medical knowledge after Lucian bit you?"

"Okay, good point," Michael conceded. "But why did Tanis show interest in the rancher, other than to throw us off of his trail?"

"I don't know, but I do know this," Selene looked at him with a very grave expression. "Tanis is a very capable information broker. He may have deduced something that neither of us has been able to comprehend."

"So what do we do now?"

"I suggest we report to Mr. Lecoq and head off for Montana. We'll ask this rancher if he's seen either Tanis or Erika and go from there. In the meantime, if the coven's eggheads come up with something, they'll redirect us."

"Okay, I'll make the call."

Minutes later, Michael ended his cell phone conversation. "I talked to the on-duty Death Dealer," he told Selene. "It's so easy for me to forget that most of the Coven is holed up and asleep during the day. Anyway, I told him where we were going and why. He'll report to Lecoq this evening."

"Good enough," Selene told him. "We can trade off driving. We'll be there a little before noon tomorrow."

"You don't believe in taking your time when you're on a mission, do you?"

Selene simply glared at her companion.

* * *

The evening had started out well for Mr. Lecoq, with a report from Michael and Selene, but had quickly given way to troubling thoughts. He now sat in his office, the same office in which Selene and Michael had subdued a team of his best Death Dealers, and spoke with Madame Carreras about the two European immortals.

"Madame Carreras," he told his advisor. "Selene and Michael are refugees with valuable skills! They came here seeking refuge and are willing to provide assistance in exchange. These other two, Tanis and Erika, deceived me about events in Europe and fled when the truth came out."

"What proof do you have that Selene's version of events is more truthful than Tanis's?" She inquired. "I have been your faithful advisor for over a century, so I must advise caution when dealing with her."

"If Tanis spoke the truth, why did he flee when Selene appeared?"

"He is no fighter," she answered. "Neither am I. Those two, even unarmed, defeated a team of your best Death Dealers. What chance would Tanis and Erika have had against them?"

"Are you saying that Tanis is telling the truth, or at least a more truthful depiction of events?"

"No, I'm saying that we have no concrete proof from either party and this coven is in a very perilous state. Not only are we the only remaining immortal stronghold, we have no guidance from the elders."

"I'm well aware of this," Lecoq allowed a bit more heat, than usual, to creep into his voice.

"Then you are also aware that the four prime witnesses are now away from your control. We have no way of corroborating their stories' details."

"What do you think is going on?" Lecoq demanded. "Like you say, I have a great responsibility and I cannot afford these word games."

"I don't know, but allow me to bring up three possibilities," she replied. "First, let's say that Tanis is the…more dishonest…party in this situation. There's a real chance that he allied with the lycans, sold out his own kind. With the elders gone, he's managed to manipulate you into sending several of your Death Dealers to Europe, searching for answers. In addition, he's now safely away from this mansion. We could be facing an assault, right here. With this mansion toppled, the lycans would probably set him up as regent of the remaining vampires."

"That's a little far-fetched, but plausible," Lecoq admitted. "What's the second possibility?"

"Perhaps Selene is being less than honest. She has already admitted to personally killing two of the elders. Now, for a moment, let's give Tanis the benefit of the doubt. Let's say that Selene is making a power play for leadership. We know that all three vampire elders, the lycan elder and the European Regent are all dead. She has gained some influence, by what means I don't care to think of, over this Michael, a powerful hybrid. Now, Tanis fled her, which was probably a wise move on his part. However, she fingered him as a traitor and you sent her after him. If she kills him, the one soul who could decipher this whole mess will be gone! If she eliminates him, she and this Michael could easily rise to an ascendant position!"

"I believe you said something about a third possibility," Lecoq muttered, rubbing his temples.

"This one is the most chilling," Madame Carreras told him. "Perhaps the two of them, Selene and Tanis, are working together. Think about this, both feel that Victor betrayed them, so they plot their revenge. Tanis sets up Lucian and Kraven, allowing their plot to destabilize the immortals' ruling structure. When Lucian gets close to his goal, Selene conveniently discovers that the lycans are up to something and winds up controlling Lucian's biological, super weapon. Now, with the European immortals in turmoil, they arrange for Erika and Tanis to flee here, separately, so that their stories can support each other. Tanis has just enough time to glean our own records before Selene shows up and exposes him as a traitor. Of course, Selene gains your trust and Tanis, having found what he wants, is off to act upon the information he gained from our records. Selene is close at hand with your blessing and support. When they find what they're looking for, they will return, with an intimate knowledge of our resources and leadership structure."

"That doesn't make sense," Lecoq protested. "If Selene and Tanis were working together, why didn't they kill Victor and Marcus in their sleep?"

"The theory has some holes," Madame Carreras admitted. "But the fact is that we have no concrete evidence about what happened in Hungary. Both Tanis and Selene have managed to look around inside this very mansion and meet several of our senior coven members. Now, both are conveniently away from your observation."

"You make an excellent point," Lecoq admitted. "What do you suggest I do?"

"You need to keep an eye on them all," Madame Carreras told him. "They could all be what they claim, but you cannot take that chance. You have the mobile truck your engineers put together for you. If you want my advice, I say send a team of Death Dealers to trail Selene and Michael. They're still in the coven vehicle, with the on-board security system tracking its movements. Place Death Dealers close to them, so we know what they are really doing out there. If either party proves deceitful, you'll know how to act."

Lecoq thought about the truck she had mentioned. Years earlier, Amelia's advisors, Lecoq included, had realized that the coven needed a method of rapidly moving coven members across country. Unfortunately, the vampires' reaction to sunlight made daylight travel very risky. A couple of coven engineers had come up with what looked like a regular, cargo tractor-trailer combination. The body of the trailer was lined with lead, which shielded the interior from the agent, in sunlight, that proved deadly to vampires. The trailer held living facilities and an armory, allowing up to a dozen vampires to live in something resembling comfort. With a couple of well-paid mortals driving the vehicle, it could cover vast distances, discretely and safely. The coven had only needed to use it once before.

"Such an action would leave the mansion even more short of Death Dealers," he pointed out, pondering the suggestion.

"I did not say my advice would be free of risks. It is up to you, the regent, to decide which risks must be taken."

"Very well, I will consider it," Lecoq told his advisor. "Do you have anything else to discus with me?"

"No," she answered. "I believe that you have more than enough on your mind, dealing with the crises at hand. I will leave you to your thoughts."

Lecoq rose and saw the lady to his door before returning to his desk. He sat back and contemplated both what she had said, and the disturbing thoughts that had intruded upon his mind, of their own accord. No mater how he viewed Tanis and Selene, one thought rose over all other considerations: This mansion, which was his responsibility, was now the vampires only known, organized stronghold.

He remembered his very early days of immortality, posing as an exporter. Traders would make the long journey down the Mississippi and sell him their pelts. These traders were, for the most part, former trappers in the wild areas of the northwest. These rough men were more than happy to talk about their time on the frontier and one piece of wisdom seemed common to all of them, 'the rattlesnake you never see is twice as dangerous as the grizzly bear you see a mile away.'

Ironically, those trappers had gained their hard won experiences near where Michael claimed he and Selene were going right now.

Arriving at a decision, Lecoq punched a button on his phone.

"How may I serve you, regent?" His chief Death Dealer answered.

"Stock the mobile unit and assemble a team," Lecoq told him. "Then report to my office. You'll be leaving tomorrow night."

* * *

"Good evening sleepyhead," Tanis's voice pulled Erika out of her slumber. "It's time to wake up."

The blonde vampire stretched out, feeling surprisingly cheerful. When she had begun this odd quest, she thought that she would be miserable. A lifelong city dweller, she had found the unpopulated regions to be a refreshing change. As long as they managed to return to an urban setting in another week or so, the experience wouldn't go sour on her.

"I take it that our furry friends didn't show up during the day?" She asked, while rummaging through her baggage. While Billings, an hour away by car, wasn't a major metropolitan area, it was a large enough city that they had found some clothing stores open late at night. As such, she was able to be at least a little fashionable.

"If so, I haven't been able to see any clues," he admitted. "Still, I feel we must give them at least a chance to make themselves known."

"So what do we do tonight, to give them the opportunity?"

"First, I'm leaving a message on our car," Tanis replied, holding up an envelope. "I rubbed a bit of my blood on it, so it should draw our furry friends' attention. I'll stash it under the car, where a casual observer won't see it."

"What does that leave us doing, without transportation?"

"We'll play the part of jaded, urban dwellers that haven't seen the open skies," he told her. "Although this town is small, it has a quaint, charming park along the river. We'll go out for a moonlit stroll, amazed at how the night skies look, while giving our furry cousins a chance to check out our vehicle and observe us."

Erika discarded the heels she had been about to put on, in favor of more practical footwear. She was actually looking forward to the stroll. Despite the fact that she was an immortal, she was only about a half-century old. The majority of her time had been spent in Budapest itself, so she was honestly surprised by how many stars were to be seen, once away from a city's lights.

Soon, the two were following a sidewalk along a small, meandering river. Erika held Tanis's arm with both of hers, playing the part of a young, romantic couple. While they weren't alone, most others in the park were teenaged couples, looking for a little alone time and keeping their distance. Erika sighed, softly.

"Is there something wrong, my dear?" Tanis murmured, quiet enough to not be overheard. He found the setting perfect; the two vampires were isolated enough to have a private conversation but close enough to others that any lycans would be highly unlikely to attack them.

"Just thinking a little," Erika admitted, gazing up at the night sky. "I almost wish that we were just what we appeared to be, a young couple just enjoying each other's company."

"That helps make the masquerade more believable," Tanis told her. "Since the two of us are actually enjoying this little stroll, it's easy for us to look like we are doing so."

"That's not exactly what I meant," she corrected, with a slight pout.

"Let me see if I know what you meant to convey," he replied, pausing for a moment to collect his thoughts. "You meant that you really wished that we weren't out looking for sanctuary, fleeing pursuit that may or may not be behind us while trying to find a pack that may or may not exist. Furthermore, you wish that what we are doing, right now, was the sum total of our activities; you wish that we were simply out for a stroll, diverting ourselves from our travels, with no worry about positioning ourselves within a lycan pack or a vampire coven."

"Just about perfect," she told him. "How could you guess?"

"I've gone through much the same," he admitted. "Erika, hopefully you're looking at centuries, if not millennia, of existence. You're not going to be near the top of the ruling heap, scheming and plotting, all of that time. There are going to be times where you're going to take a decade or two off to just be Erika, the pretty young woman who enjoys fashion, dancing and music. There's nothing wrong with doing so."

"Oh, what makes you say that?"

"I've seen most of the older vampires do the same," he shrugged his shoulders. "Granted, the elders always seemed to cling to power and Selene didn't care about anything except exterminating lycans, but everyone else took time off to enjoy themselves. Victor was wise enough to realize that his followers needed this time off, so he granted them vacations. Kahn, for instance, would occasionally spend time being a simple craftsman. Kraven would take the occasional vacation and be a vain party animal."

"So, when would be a good time to take time off?"

"First, we have to establish ourselves, find safety and shelter," he instructed. "Once we have a support structure around us, we'll be able to take time to live, rather than just exist."

"On that note, why don't we go over our story again?" She asked. "If the lycans find us, it will go better if our stories match each other."

"That it will," he grinned. "So, tell me your story, up to the point that you left the mansion."

"Basically the truth," she replied. "I will admit to trying to form a relationship with the regent. He had imprisoned Selene and I assisted her escape, trying to eliminate a rival. I fled the mansion after hearing about Amelia's death and I fled the continent after hearing about the mansion's destruction. You…"

"I admit to being a prisoner and dealing with both lycan and vampire," he told her. "Selene and Michael extorted me, telling me that Amelia and Lucian were dead, Selene had personally killed Victor and that Michael was some sort of new immortal. After they left, to speak to the head of the Cleaners, Marcus attacked me and drew my memories of his brother's prison. Fearing another attack, I fled my prison and sought refuge in the New World Coven, where we met."

"We assumed duties and privileges at the coven," Erika continued. "We spent a couple of weeks there before we spotted Selene and Michael, driving during the daylight. We didn't know what was going on, nor did we know Marcus's fate. Fearing that Selene and Michael were making some sort of power play, we fled again. Your historical research, combined with your previous contact with Lucian, led you to believe that a lycan pack may exist. We are now trying to find sanctuary."

"Excellent," Tanis approved.

"I don't understand why we have to emphasize our…less than honorable…activities," Erika confessed.

"It's something you're going to have to realize, if you ever want to become a good liar," Tanis grinned at her. "A good liar has to spend most of his time telling the truth. The classic mixture, for a single lie, is three-to-one."

"What?"

"If you're going to tell someone a single lie, it is best to mix it with at least three truthful items. That way, your listener won't question you. Now, if you want to be a long-term liar, the mixture is more like ten-to-one. Bottom line up front, the more truth you tell, the more likely everyone will take your statements at face value." He paused to snort out a short laugh, "of course, you have no way of knowing if I'm lying, right now."

Erika gave him a playful poke in his stomach and the two of them spent the next hour wandering around the small park, acting like a young couple and enjoying themselves. The park began to clear out as the night wore on, and Tanis led Erika out of the park and up the river. Since the park was on the town's city limits, they were quickly away from any homes.

"This is a good time to feed again," he whispered to her. Erika nodded, understanding his precautions. A half-hour of brisk walking found them near a ranch.

"It would appear to be a dairy ranch," Tanis told his companion. "This should be fairly easy."

The two quickly approached a dozing cow and subdued her. While the rest of the bovines lowed and skittered away, no lights came on in the ranch house. The two vampires were relieved, remembering a fiasco from two nights previous. Then, they had the misfortune of selecting a bull as their victim. THAT bovine had reacted rather…aggressively.

Tanis produced a package of antiseptic wipes from his jacket and the two vampires cleaned a patch on the cow's neck. They fed quickly, and then Tanis disinfected the wound. As odd as Erika found this behavior, Tanis honestly didn't wish to inflict any permanent injury on the cow. Besides, he was better off not leaving a trail of sick or dead livestock. Their repast completed, the two turned to retrace their steps back into town.

Shortly after springing over the fence, which confined the cattle, the two vampires found themselves confronted by a rather plain looking man. For several, endless seconds the duo simply stared at the man until…

"Are you folks lost?" He asked. "I don't see too many folks out here at this time of night, 'specially dressed for a night on the town."

"Ah, my good man," Tanis stepped forward. "I know that this looks terribly suspicious, but I can assure you that we have a very good reason for being here."

"Which would be?"

"Well, my companion and I were out for a bit of a nightcap and we decided to take a walk along the river. We just kept going, one thing led to another and, well, here we are."

"I have a problem believing that," the man commented. "I've lived in these parts almost all my life and I've never climbed into a cow pasture by accident. Tell me, what were you doing with the cattle?"

"Well, uh, we're hardly experienced with livestock," Tanis stammered. "We wanted to see one of these animals close up."

"Close enough to scrub it down? I've heard of cow tipping, but this is the first I've ever heard of cow scrubbing."

"If you observed that, then you know that we didn't cause that bovine any harm," Tanis insisted.

"I can tell you were the one that wrote that note," the man commented. "I have to admit, that was some of the finest penmanship I've ever seen, but you really have a thing about running on. You don't believe in using three words when you can use thirty and say the same thing, do you?"

"I'll have you know that my prose was considered the finest of personal writing in the sixteenth century!" Tanis protested.

"Is that so?" The man simply grinned. "I have to wonder if you were there writing it, or if this is just a story."

"Huh?" Erika chimed in.

"I think we've made contact with those we were seeking," Tanis informed her.

"Now, I'm sure you know the drill," the man told them. "I'm going to ask you to come along quietly and willingly. I'll make sure you're safely out of the sun before dawn."

"Where are we going?" Erika asked.

"He won't tell us," Tanis informed her. "He needs to keep his secrets. I'm sure that we will be bound, gagged and blindfolded for our trip."

"I see you've done this before," the man nodded. "That makes one of us. Ma'am, it's going to happen just like he said. We've got about four hours before the sun comes up, and our destination is about two hours away. Of course, it doesn't matter that much to me, but I understand you won't be too happy if daylight finds you on the road."

Tanis couldn't help but grin, "since I've been through this before, I'll make the next move," he said. "It's customary for you to make a show of strength at this point, to convince us that we really don't have any choice but to do as you say."

"Oh, you mean you want me to make a move that proves I can take the two of you out, if you don't play along?" Tanis nodded. "Maybe I should also prove that I'm who you seem to think I am, and not some nut that just happened on your note."

"That would also be helpful," Tanis informed him.

"Okay, how's this?" The man made a slight gesture with one hand, prompting a low growl off to the vampires' right.

Both Erika and Tanis looked and saw two lycans, in their werewolf forms, mere feet away. Next to the werewolves stood two more men, probably lycans, with assault rifles. The men's rifles were aimed at the vampires and their fingers were on the triggers.

"Quite impressive," Tanis told the first man. "Taking care of both items at the same time is most efficient."

"Okay," the first man smiled widely. "Now, is it customary for you to give some sort of defiance, telling me I won't get away with it?"

"It's not a hard and fast rule," Tanis informed him. "Especially since we sought you out. Why don't the two of us simply surrender now, you can restrain us…I assume you've brought the means to do so?"

The man nodded and produced two sets of shackles.

"Right," Tanis nodded back. "You're most capable, for a first timer. Now, as I was saying, why don't we just surrender, you can take us to wherever you intend to keep us, and we can get on with the questioning? I'm sure that you're most curious."

"That sounds good to me. Heck, since you've done this before, I'll even skip the part where I threaten all sorts of terrible consequences if you make trouble. After all," suddenly, the man's smile became more predatory than friendly. "You seem to know what will happen. With any luck, we can skip a lot of the nasty parts, as much as I was looking forward to them."

* * *

_A/N:_

_I hope you're all enjoying the tale: Thanks for sticking with me this long. Bit thanks, as always, to Joe Stoppinghem, for his beta services._

_Until my next update, best wishes;_

_daccu65_


	12. Chapter 12: A Darker Side

Chapter 12: A Darker Side

"Let's go over this again," the rather rough man told Tanis. "How do you know that Lucian is dead?"

"I never saw his body," the historian told his questioner, while marveling at the similarities between this interrogation and the one in the New World Coven. "Both Selene and this character she was with, Michael, told me that he was dead."

"And you took their words at face value?"

"When they handed me my ass, I wasn't about to argue," Tanis told him. "After Marcus nearly drained me, I wasn't about to stick around dear old Hungary long enough to find out."

"What has this 'Michael' person become?"

"I'm not sure," Tanis told him. "I do know that he has lycan strength and the ability to withstand sunlight. I honestly can't tell you how he reacts to silver. He also seems to have a great deal of control over his transformations and…frightening…strength for one so new to immortality." Tanis looked at his questioner closely, "he also seems quite devoted to Selene."

It was small and discrete, but the man, the lycan, questioning Tanis flinched. "_So Selene's reputation has crossed the Atlantic before her,"_ Tanis mused. _"This may prove beneficial."_

"Going on, you said that you had contact with Lucian," it was a comment, not a question but Tanis decided the man expected him to expand on it.

"Yes," he answered. "I knew him when he wore Victor's collar. I kept some of his…indiscretions…secret. He realized that I could be trusted to act in my own self-interest, so he maintained intermittent contact with me, after Victor banished me."

"So you're not entirely on the lycan side of this conflict?"

"Side?" Tanis had to honestly laugh at that. "I'm my own side! Like I told you, I fled to the New World Coven to save myself! When Selene showed up, I decided it was time to leave there. Since I suspected that you had a little group out here somewhere, I came looking for you."

"For what purpose?"

"To save my skin, of course," Tanis shook his head in amazement. "Haven't you figured out yet that I'm a weasel? I'd sell out my own mother, if she were still alive, to save my own skin!"

"And you'll sell us out, as well?" The man prompted.

"Of course," Tanis snapped at him. "If it's in my self interest. I'm a very untrustworthy sort, I make no claims to the contrary."

"So how can we trust you?"

"You can trust me to act in my own self interest! Haven't you been listening to what I've been telling you? I'm a scoundrel! It's the honorable folks you have to worry about; you never know when one of them will turn on you. I'm not that way, you know that I'll turn on you whenever I can gain something from it."

Jerry, the man questioning Tanis, rubbed his temples and hid a smile. He had to admire his captive, even if he was a blood. Jerry had never fought a vampire, but he had trailed and observed them. He had observed bloods poaching and searching for rogue lycans, but he had never seen them actually try to contact and communicate with the pack. This self-proclaimed historian was an enigma, all right, but the pack would figure out how to get his secrets. Someone with his experience and knowledge was a treasure, even if he was a blood. They would have to be careful, but they had planned for this possibility.

First of all, the pack owned three ranches in the area. The main headquarters was about an hour and a half, by vehicle, away from where they now held Erika and Tanis. Their 'front' ranch was a half-hour away, in the opposite direction. The pack had taken the two vampires' possessions and vehicle, and kept them at this location. He wondered how Lee was doing, questioning Erika, before restarting the conversation.

"I get the message," he said. "You're a scoundrel. Of course, you realize that that very admission makes your claims suspect."

"Indeed," Tanis agreed. "Perhaps I can voice some of your concerns. First of all, you're anxious that I'm some sort of scout, looking for your stronghold so that the rest of my coven can move in and eliminate it. As such, you suspect that there may be some sort of tracking devices in my vehicle, amongst my possessions or even in my person."

"So far, so good," Jerry nodded.

"Secondly, you're concerned that if I am what I claim; a refugee from the New World Coven, I could have pursuers behind me. Such pursuers, should they track me down, will discover your presence. I'm every bit as concerned about this as you are." Tanis decided to test how much of a reputation Selene had amongst the New World lycans. "If Selene catches up to me…" he let the statement hang.

His questioner flinched, telling Tanis that somehow, stories of the implacable death dealer must have reached even this remote location.

"Finally, you're wondering how I managed to locate you," Tanis concluded. "After all, if an European historian can manage to locate your cov…er…pack, in a few weeks, another party, perhaps a Death Dealer, will be able to do it. You want to know how I found you, so that you can eliminate the trail you left behind."

"For the guy in the hot seat, you're certainly providing a lot of information without any prompting," Jerry commented.

"I have nothing to lose," Tanis told him. "Why don't we cut through the customary threats and denials? I'll tell you how I deduced your location, in return for sanctuary."

"What kind of sanctuary terms are you talking about?"

"You keep me sheltered, fed, and safe from outside forces," Tanis told him. "In return, I provide what assistance I am able. I have an intimate knowledge of coven activity. This knowledge will provide you with a unique insight into the vampires' efforts to eradicate you. Can you afford to turn up such an opportunity?"

"There are other ways to acquire this information," Jerry suggested, with an ominous tone.

"You're referring to both torture and blood memories," Tanis answered him. "Of course, both are rather suspect. I really wish you wouldn't try either one, as I'm not fond of pain. If you torture me, you run the risk that you'll wind up telling me what to say. I'll do just about anything to avoid agony, after all, so any information you gain will be very questionable."

"Then there's the blood memories issue," Tanis continued. "There are two problems with that route. First, blood memories tend to be fragmented and incomplete, while you want to gain specific information. Unless you have an elder with you, you can't be assured of gaining complete information. Of course, even with an elder, the information may be suspect. Compounding this issue is the fact that a lycan's bite will be fatal to me. The only way the memories transfer is by a direct bite. Simply extracting some of my blood, via needle, will do you no good."

"Oh, we have one way of hedging our bet," Jerry told the man.

"What?" Tanis asked.

"You don't need to know that, at least right now," Jerry informed him. "Now, why don't we show you to your room? It's just about dawn and this house isn't shielded against the sun."

"Is my cell adequately protected?" Tanis demanded. While he didn't want to die under any circumstances, death by sunlight absolutely terrified him.

"I can't say for sure," Jerry smiled. "It's well under ground, so it should be good enough."

"What if it isn't?"

"You'll be the first to know. It won't hurt me one bit."

* * *

"Are you sure about this?" Michael asked his companion.

"Not at all, but I don't think we have any choice," Selene answered. "This is where Tanis's trail leads. We might find him, we might find an ambush that he's set for us, who knows."

"Yet you insisted that we do this during daylight," Michael's remark was more a comment than a question.

"I want to prove that we aren't vampires," Selene told him. "If we are running into a lycan pack, I want to guarantee that they'll be curious, rather than hostile."

"Somehow, I think we're missing something," Michael informed her.

"We probably are. Tanis might be a treacherous coward, but he is both clever and knowledgeable. He probably found some pattern, in the coven's records, that he felt was worth pursuing." She gave her companion a fond smile. "Don't let it bother you, this is what he's been doing for centuries. He knows how to broker information."

"But what could he be looking for?" Michael asked. "Money? Mortals to turn? What?"

"I'd say safety and sanctuary would be his first motivation," Selene mused. "All of the wealth and servants in the world won't do you any good if you're dead. He thinks that someone, or something, out here can provide him with shelter and this is the path he followed."

"So who, or what, could he be looking for?"

"We'll be more likely to find out by knocking on that door, than by sitting here speculating," Selene informed him, with a gesture at the distant farmhouse. "Hopefully, someone will be home. This is a working ranch, so the rancher himself is probably away from the house, hard at work."

"You'd know better than me," Michael confessed. His companion gave him an odd look.

"For all that this is my home country, I've always been a city kid," he explained. "All I know is the stereotypes; that the farmer is out before dawn and doesn't get back before dark."

"That's pretty accurate," Selene told him. "But if anyone's at the house, they can direct us to him."

The two immortals climbed back into their vehicle and drove the two miles to the farmyard. Once there they climbed out and approached the house. A sign on the door said 'I'm working in the south field'. Selene knocked anyway, and received no answer.

"So, what now?" Michael asked.

"We go to the south field," Selene stated, heading back to the car.

"Where's that?"

"I don't know, but I'm assuming south of here," she informed him, with a smile on her face.

Michael muttered to himself as he climbed into the car. Selene quickly turned onto a dirt trail running alongside a fence line and started to drive. High grass on one side, and the fence along the other, didn't allow them to see to either side.

"So you even have a solid sense of direction," Michael commented. "I don't even know which way is south."

"We were driving west on an east/west highway," Selene informed him. "Turn left when you're facing west, and you're heading south." She waited a moment while Michael chastised himself for not paying attention before continuing. "That, and the car has a built in GPS, with a compass."

Michael managed to look like he was feeling a little better about himself. A few minutes later, the high grass to their left vanished, to be replaced with an open field. A large tractor was moving in the center of the field.

"He's cutting hay," Selene told her companion. "He'll reach this side of the field in a few minutes. We'll wait for him."

"How does a vampire know so much about agriculture?" He asked.

"Back when I was a little girl, my family was fairly wealthy," she explained. "Back then, wealth meant land and land meant agriculture. Even though my father was a sort of combination architect and engineer, he owned land and took me along when he watched his servants working it. The equipment might change but the tasks don't. That rancher is doing the same thing his predecessors have done for millennia; he's just doing it more efficiently."

Selene spotted where the man would drive his tractor and drove the car to near that point. The two immortals climbed out of the car and waited, trying to look nonchalant and non-threatening.

"What do we do if he claims he hasn't seen Tanis or Erika?" Michael asked, pulling out a picture of the vampire historian.

"We make use of your nose to poke around town," She answered. "His trail leads here and the town isn't that large. You should be able to pick up his scent."

"If he actually came here," Michael pointed out. "And this isn't just a false trail."

Selene simply nodded her understanding as the rancher stopped his tractor and climbed out of the cab. The man gave the two a polite nod as he approached them, and then his eyes flew open for a moment. Still, he regained his composure and approached the two. As he reached out to shake hands, Michael's eyes widened for a moment, as well.

It was at that moment that Selene realized that the rancher had approached from downwind.

Selene began her spiel, showing the man pictures of Tanis and Erika. She held to the cover story that the two were spoiled, high society youngsters who were out on a joyride across the country and that she and her companion were trying to track them down. The man denied having seen them.

"Why don't we be honest?" Michael interrupted. "Look, I know what you are and you have at least a guess about what we are. We don't know how you've gotten tangled up into all of this and we really don't care. Just tell us what you know about them and we're gone, you'll never have to worry about us again."

"I don't know what you're talking about," the man insisted, turning back to his tractor. "It seems kind of odd that I get visitors from New Orleans out here. Tell you what, since I don't want you to waste all the time you spent coming out here, why don't you stick around town for a few days? The town doesn't look like much, but interesting things seem to happen, if you stay awhile."

With that, the man climbed back into his tractor and returned to his chores. Michael and Selene stood for a few moments, wondering what to do, before climbing into their car and driving off.

"Lycan?" Selene asked. It was really more requesting confirmation than asking.

"Oh yes," Michael confirmed. "I couldn't catch Tanis's scent, but he might not have been in that field. So, what do we do?"

"We return to town, of course," she informed him. "And we wait for something interesting to happen."

"I kind of guessed that," Michael informed her. "What I meant to say was, what do we do while waiting for something interesting to happen?"

"A small town like this is certain to have a shooting range nearby. We can spend our time wisely, with marksmanship training and sparring. In addition, we had best report to Mr. Lecoq."

"That's something I have to think over before I call him," Michael told her.

"Why's that?" She asked.

"If I tell Lecoq that we found a lycan, living the life of a simple, Montana rancher, what's he going to do?"

"Send death dealers to eliminate him," Selene answered, as a mater of fact. A moment later, she gasped in horror. _"There was another murder you nearly committed." _

"Exactly," he nodded. "I don't want that man killed just for being what he is. If he's out hunting humans, I'll take him down but the townsfolk sure don't act like they're being hunted."

"Okay, don't tell Lecoq that he's a lycan," Selene instructed her companion. "Tell him that we found the man Tanis had shown interest in, that he's denying he saw Tanis and Erika, and that we suspect he knows more than he's telling us. Tell him that we're going to stay here and try to find out more."

"That'll work," Michael pulled out his cell phone.

* * *

Mr. Lecoq awoke that evening to another report from Selene and Michael. He read it carefully before summoning Madame Carreras and his deputy Death Dealer to his office. He would have met with Gary, his head Death Dealer, but that man had insisted on accompanying his team into the unknown. After a moment of thought, he informed his technical expert to stand by. Once his two advisors had seated themselves and read Michael's message, he asked for opinions.

"This information, in and of itself, does not tell us anything," Madame Carreras told him. "How do we know that they are actually where they claim to be."

"I will ascertain that in a few minutes," Lecoq informed his advisors, before calling the technical expert into the office.

"Sharon," Lecoq instructed the…relative to the others…young vampire who answered his call. "I want you to track the locations of Selene's vehicle and Michael's cell phone, over the last twenty-four hours."

"At once, regent," she complied. Lecoq moved away from his computer terminal, and the expert quickly went to work. Minutes later, she hit a control, which caused a large, flat screen to come to life on one of Lecoq's walls. This screen showed a map of the United States, upon which a red dot moved.

"As you can see, regent," she reported. "The cell phone, and the vehicle, have been within feet of each other the entire time. Roughly twenty-four hours ago, both were in Tennessee. They have traveled northwest, to Montana. Upon reaching a small town in the north-central region, they traveled out of town for a short time before returning, then left town again. Currently, they are a few miles out of town, stationary, with the cell phone about thirty feet from the car."

"Very well," Lecoq nodded his tanks. "You're dismissed."

"At your pleasure, regent," she bowed before leaving.

"So Michael is at least honest about where they are located," Madame Carreras said, as soon as Sharon left. "But we still do not know if they are honest about why they are there."

"I tend to believe that they visited the rancher," Lecoq told her. "According to the log, they were at their first out-of-town location when he called. This could very well be the ranch in question."

"And his report gives them a very convenient excuse to stay there for a few days," Carreras suggested.

"For what purpose?" Lecoq demanded.

"Several possibilities," she replied. "They may be meeting with Tanis, right now. They may have found what Tanis was searching for. Indeed, they could be doing what they claim. That is why I suggested sending the team."

Lecoq looked at his Death Dealer.

"The team is some thirty miles away," he reported. "I agree with Madame Carreras. We can have this team investigate the ranch, without Selene and Michael being aware that we are second-guessing them."

"Issue the instructions," Lecoq told him. "And monitor the cell phone's location. If they return to the ranch, I want the team out of there before Selene knows that they were in the area."

* * *

"Selene, Tanis has been through here," Michael informed his companion.

Selene knew better than to question Michael. Instead, she reminded herself how handy it was to have a lycan's senses available. After some marksmanship training, which had confirmed to both of them that Michael would be better off using his hybrid strength to fight during confrontations, the two decided to unwind in town's park. Upon relaxing on a shady bench, Michael's nostrils had started to twitch.

"What all can you tell?"

"Not much," he admitted. "The scent is weak. I'll be able to tell more if I change form."

Selene contemplated the western horizon, where the sun had just set. "Maybe we'll have the privacy to do that, tonight," she mused. "In the meantime, perhaps we could take a stroll around the park and find out where they entered and exited the place."

The two stood up, linking arms like a pair of young lovers, and strolled around the park's perimeter. As they reached the point where the small river flowed onto the park's grounds, Michael crouched down and retied his shoe. A moment later, Selene realized that this move gave him an excuse to get his face closer to the ground.

"The dirt trail holds a scent better than the sidewalks," he reported. "They passed by this way. I don't know if they left here, entered here, or left then came back."

Selene looked around again and contemplated the path following the river. Clearly, it wasn't unusual for people to leave the path by this route.

"Let's follow, as best we can," she told him. "Once we're alone, you can alter form. The only thing we have to watch out for will be teenagers who may be up this way, looking for a little privacy."

Michael smirked and led the way up the river. After perhaps a quarter mile, they were fairly sure that they were alone. Michael removed his shirt and shifted form. He sniffed around while Selene stuffed his shirt into her satchel. Soon, the hybrid picked up the scent.

"How old, less than a day?" Selene asked. Michael responded by nodding, then shrugging his shoulders. Michael's shallow muzzle and fangs made it impossible for him to speak clearly, while in hybrid form. Selene knew that he meant that he thought so, but wasn't sure.

"Lead on," she told him, gripping a pistol under her jacket. The hunt was on!

* * *

"What's going on here?" Erika demanded of the woman, the lycan, who walked into her cell. "Where's Tanis? What are you going to do to me?"

"What's going on, is I'm keeping my pack safe from the bloods," the woman informed her. "As for your companion, you'll be seeing him in a little bit. As for what we're going to do to you, something very unpleasant, but not something I would do, if I had a choice."

These words caused Erika to back up against the wall, as far as she could from the woman. She looked at her captor with an appraising eye. The lycan, for she had to be a lycan, was a tall, full-bodied brunette. She was pretty, there was no getting around the fact, but it wasn't the actress/model kind of pretty. It was the fit, athletic, active kind of pretty. This was bad news for Erika, who wasn't sizing up a potential rival. She was performing the unfamiliar task of sizing up an enemy combatant.

"I want you to know that, if it were up to me, I'd simply eliminate you, quick, efficient and as painless as possible. After all, you've never done anything to me, personally, and I don't know if you've ever done anything to my kin. You don't look like a fighter but we both know how deceiving looks can be."

Erika set her feet under her and prepared to spring. While she was no fighter, the coven's policy had been to force everybody to undergo regular, hand-to-hand combat drills. The story had been that Victor had once lost most of his court, more than a dozen vampire nobles, when two lycans had broken into the council chambers. The coven's leader had sworn that his charges would never again be lambs awaiting a slaughter. Unfortunately, the coven's adherence to this policy had waned with Victor's hibernation. Erika had skipped as many sessions as she possibly could, and had slacked off during the ones she had been forced to endure.

She prayed that she would live long enough to regret her folly.

"The men around here are strange," the woman continued, looking at the vampire with hatred and…pity? "They can handle almost any hardship that comes their way, without much in the way of complaints. They can do a whole lot of disagreeable tasks, but there's a few things they just can't bring themselves to do, and one of those things is to inflict pain on a woman."

That was it! There was no way that Erika was going to just stand there and let this…animal…torture her. The blonde launched herself forward with all of her vampire strength, lashing out with both her right fist and desperate hope. She had no idea how many lycans were in this building, but if she could get out of her cell, maybe she could locate Tanis and the two of them could flee.

Yet, the woman slid out of the blonde's path. Erika's fist only managed a glancing blow on the lycan's shoulder, which still managed to spin her around. The brunette extended a foot and tripped the vampire, causing Erika to plow headfirst into the closed door. The blonde fell to the floor, stunned.

"I'm glad you did that," the woman snarled, her voice growing deeper and turning into more of a growl even as she spoke. "It will make what I have to do so much easier!"

Erika pulled herself to her feet and spun to face her opponent, just in time so see her complete her transformation. This was the first time that Erika had seen a female lycan in werewolf form. She observed that her opponent was almost indistinguishable from a male lycan, merely a little smaller and more slender. Cornered, the vampire pushed these thoughts aside and lunged forward with her mouth open. Erika was no fool, she knew that the odds were against her but she also knew that her fangs, small when compared to her adversary's, would still be lethal.

Unfortunately for the vampire, her opponent must have paid better attention to _**her**_ training. Belying her size, the lycan lashed out with a hind leg and raked Erika across her abdomen, smashing her back against the door before her fangs could make contact. Lights flashed behind Erika's eyelids as she forced her hands up in front of her body. The lycan came forward, lashing out with her forepaws. Erika managed to block both slashes, at the cost of having both of her forearms opened to the bone. She silently thanked Tanis for insisting on frequent feedings as she felt her body healing her wounds.

The lycan gave Erika no respite, lashing with her claws once again. Erika again attempted to block the blows, confused by her opponent's behavior. All of her instructors had told her that a lycan's greatest weapon was its fangs and that a lycan would lash forward with that great maw. Erika was hoping to land a strike to her adversary's skull or neck. Still, this lycan simply used her claws, keeping her head and throat away from the vampire.

Erika blocked one of the slashes, taking another deep wound to her arm. The other paw, however, sunk its claws into her chest. Before she could react the lycan yanked, pulling her away from the door and sending her sprawling onto her belly. The beast was on top of her before she could regain her feet.

The lycan's hind legs entangled her legs and one great paw crushed down on the back of her head, pinning her to the floor. She could only flail, impotently as she felt a claw cut into her flank, forcing her to screech in agony. Another claw tore open her thigh. Through her agony, she was confused. Weren't captors supposed to ask you questions when they tortured you?

* * *

"It's good to see that this cellar gave you enough shelter from the sunlight," Jerry told Tanis, as the lycan strode into the vampire's cell. Jerry had a large, plastic tumbler full of what smelled like beef blood, which he placed on a table next to the vampire.

"You're nowhere near as happy as I am," Tanis drawled back, looking at the blood with a great deal of suspicion. "Just how certain were you that I would survive?"

"We were pretty sure," Jerry admitted, with a humorless smile. "I can change forms down here, even at high noon. I guessed that if this place is shielded enough for me to change, it would be shielded enough to keep you alive. Of course, you were the first test subject."

"I guess I might as well broach the subject," Tanis sighed. "What are your intentions towards me and my companion?"

"Information, like you guessed," Jerry replied. "We need to know everything you know, and what your former companions know."

"Which takes us back to the deal I offered, sanctuary for information."

"Yeah, which takes us back to my dilemma; if I give you sanctuary, have I just brought a wolf into the fold?" Jerry grinned, "an odd metaphor, given the circumstances."

"I guess this puts you in quite the quandary," Tanis told him, all false sympathy. "If I may ask, where is my companion?"

"She's nearby," Jerry suddenly had a dark glint in his eyes. "And she's about to perform the task we've decided to give her." A loud scream sounded from the other side of the cell's door, causing Tanis's hair to stand on end.

"That's Erika!" He snarled. "What are you doing to her?"

"What we have to," Jerry replied, in a low grating tone. Another scream echoed through the building.

"Animal!" Tanis snarled, throwing himself at the lycan.

It was a stupid move, and Tanis quickly came to the conclusion that his tormentor was the lycan version of a Death Dealer. The lycan shrugged off the punch Tanis landed on his jaw and drove his shoulder into the vampire's stomach. The air rushed out of Tanis's lungs as the lycan tackled him, driving forward and slamming the historian to the ground. Tanis's head bounced off of the floor, stunning him momentarily. By the time he retained his wits, the lycan had shackled him to a couple of rings set in the concrete floor.

"What are you doing to her?" Tanis demanded, tugging futilely at his confining chains. He could only lie on his back and glare at his tormentor.

"What we need to do," the lycan grumbled back, picking up the glass of blood and leaving the small chamber. The next several minutes, which were spent with the sound of Erika's screams in his ears, were the longest in Tanis's centuries of existence.

Pain and weakness, that's what Erika's existence her, and weakness from her blood-loss. Her wounds were no longer mending had become. Pain from the multiple slashes the lycan had inflicted upon, as her body no longer had the blood, and the strength that the blood imparted, to heal them. She was barely aware that the last of her life was leaking out upon the floor and completely unaware that her tormentor remained in the room.

The lycan reached down, scooped the vampire into her arms and carried her like a child to Tanis's cell. Erika wasn't capable of comprehending that her mortal enemy was carrying her. She sensed blood and strength nearby but before she could turn and feed, the lycan set her down in the cell.

Near the bound and helpless Tanis.

Tanis didn't know if he should be relieved or scared when Erika's agonized screams fell silent. He shocked himself by roaring in anger and defiance, challenging any and all that could hear him to face him, fang to fang. Moments later, his tormentor stepped out of the cell's doorway to make way for a lycan to enter. This lycan set Erika's abused and battered form near him before walking away. At first, Tanis suspected that they were torturing him by displaying his lover's dead body but then Erika stirred and turned her head to face him. There was no recognition in her expression.

Only hunger.

A horrifying realization came over the historian as the blonde slithered towards him and sunk her fangs into his flesh. He surprised himself by not minding that she was feeding upon him.

"_Take my strength,"_ he silently urged her. "_I give it to you, willingly_."

He felt himself weaken as he watched her wounds close. She grew stronger, steadier until at some point, she realized how badly she must be have been draining him.

"Tanis!" She gasped, with a horrified expression. "I'm sorry, I didn't…"

"Hush," he whispered to her, his voice was weak but still gentle. "You've never been battered that badly. It wasn't your fault, it was our hosts'."

He sought to comfort her even more, but the two lycans, one in human form and the other in beast form, entered and interrupted him.

"Back to your cell, girl," Jerry commanded Erika, even though his voice was gentle and regretful. "He'll be fine."

Jerry replaced the tumbler on the table as the female lycan shoved Erika out of the cell. The blonde vampire made a token effort to struggle, but she was still weak from her wounding and no match for her opponent even at her best. Soon she was once more locked up, alone, in her cell. She collapsed onto her cot before realizing that her captors had left a large tumbler of beef blood for her. She thought for a moment before realizing that whatever happened to her, she would face it best if she were fully healed. She guzzled her meal and lay back on the cot, contemplating her revenge.

After his companion herded Erika out of the cell, Jerry released Tanis and hauled him up to sit on the cot. He shoved the blood into the weakened vampire's hands. Tanis drank his offering out of reflex and need, rather than conscious thought.

"So what kind of sick crap was that little performance?" He demanded. "Was that supposed to be some sort of psychological torture? Do you think I'm going to turn on her because you forced her to drain me? Or maybe you wanted her to kill me, and become an emotional wreck because of it. I'm delighted to disappoint you on both scores."

"I'm sorry, but it isn't anything that complicated," Jerry told him. "I'm sure you realize that she just absorbed a whole lot of your memories, along with your strength. She may be young, and the memories she picked up are probably a confused jumble, but now they're in that pretty little head of hers."

"Yesterday, you made sure to point out that we only had one chance to take your memories," Jerry continued, his expression deadly serious. "Erika just became our insurance policy. If we think you're holding back information, or lying, our elder will take her. I didn't enjoy doing that to her and my companion didn't care for it either, but it was something we had to do."

"I'll let you recover until tomorrow night," Jerry informed him, getting up and leaving the cell. "I think you might want to think about the fact that you've just become a lot less indispensable."

With that, the lycan locked Tanis in his cell, leaving the vampire with thoughts as dark as the room.

* * *

_A/N: Well, we're getting towards the end. I think that there's only going to be three chapters left before I bring this one to an end. I've really appreciated the number of people who have read this tale. _

_Again, my fondest thanks go to Joe Stoppinghem, for beta reading._

_Until my next update, best wishes:_

_daccu65_


	13. Chapter 13: Confrontations

Chapter 13: Confrontations

Selene kept a few strides behind Michael as he followed Tanis's trail. With one hand on her handy Beretta, she scanned the dark landscape as Michael devoted his attention to the ground. A short distance out of town, he turned at a right angle to the river and followed a scent trail for another quarter-mile, to a gravel road. He then returned to the river and continued upstream, eventually reaching a fence. Here he stopped and returned to his human form.

"I'm not all that good at tracking," he explained to her. "Tanis's trail both continues past this fence and it turns back there," he waved in the direction they had come from. "Either he came this way, returned and then turned away from the river or he came up the river, turned to the road, then returned to the river and continued his journey." Michael looked to Selene with a very serious expression, "there are lycan scents mixed with his trail, where it leaves the river."

"Then his trip to the road was the last stage of his journey," Selene stated. "Once he met up with the lycans, they took him away. Did you smell blood?"

"No," Michael answered. "I don't think there was any violence."

"Could you smell Erika?"

"I could smell a second vampire and I'm assuming that it's her."

Selene gave a curt nod, "that's what he was looking for, a lycan pack."

"THAT'S what I've been missing," Michael snapped. "That lycan we met back at the ranch, he isn't a lone wolf, he's the front man for the pack! Tanis somehow figured out that there's a lycan pack active out here and the coven doesn't even suspect it exists!"

"What better place to seek sanctuary?" Selene asked, rhetorically. "Than with a pack that has spent years, maybe even centuries, hiding from the coven?"

"So what do we do now?" He asked.

"We return to our room," Selene answered, turning back down the river. "I have a feeling that the 'interesting things' that the rancher hinted at are going to involve lycans. I hope that we manage a peaceful encounter."

Michael retrieved his shirt and the two retraced their steps along the river, returning to town. Roughly half way back, Michael suddenly stiffened.

"Lycans," he whispered to his companion. Selene drew her pistol and readied herself.

"I thought you wanted this to be peaceful!" He hissed at her.

"I do," she murmured, in a low voice. "That doesn't mean I _**expect**_ it to be peaceful. Get ready."

Selene waited a moment, while Michael changed back into his hybrid form then she stood tall and pointed her pistol into the sky. "We know you're watching us," she declared. "Why don't you come forward and we can talk? I'm not looking for trouble."

"That's a funny thing about trouble," a plain looking man remarked, stepping out of the darkness. "When you go looking for it, you usually find it. When you don't look for it, it usually finds you."

"A strange place to meet a philosopher," Selene commented, careful to keep her weapon pointed harmlessly into the air.

"There's been a lot of strange things going on," the man replied, keeping his hands away from his body. "I never thought I'd hear about a blood walking around in the daylight. Of course, you're not really a blood, are you?"

"I don't exactly know what I am," Selene answered.

"That sounds honest enough. Now, about your companion, he's not exactly one of the pack, is he?"

"He's a hybrid and he cannot speak while in this form."

"I thought that hybrids were impossible," the man told her.

"Will you argue with your own eyes?"

"With my eyes, yes," he offered a tight grin. "But not with my nose. Now, if you don't mind me asking, why has he chosen to stay in that form, if he can't speak?"

"You said that trouble looks for you when you're not looking for it. He prefers to be ready to meet trouble, rather than be able to speak."

"That makes sense to me. Now, why don't we start with the obvious? Who are you and why did you choose that particular ranch to visit, as well as this little corner of the world to go for a nighttime stroll?"

"We're searching for a pair of vam…bloods, named Tanis and Erika," she answered. "There are some very dire events taking place in Europe and Tanis could play a very key role. We tracked them here."

"Maybe you did and maybe you didn't," he murmured out loud. "Do the two of you have names?"

"My companion's name is Michael Corvin," Selene answered. "I go by Selene, and your name?"

"I go by the name of Jerry," he told her, flinching slightly. "Your reputation precedes you. From what I've heard, you've been the death of a great number of my kin."

"I'm no longer doing that," she told him. "I know that you have no reason to believe me, but I'll say it anyway."

"Fair enough," he told her. "Now, why don't you do the smart thing, drop your weapons and we can take care of this nice and calm?"

"We're not refugees and we're not looking for sanctuary," Selene informed him, with a cold voice. "We won't be taken prisoner."

"Now we have a bit of a problem," the man told her. "You see, I've got kinsmen, I won't say how many, standing by in case you decided to throw your weight around." He punctuated his statement with a pointed look to Selene's left. Selene followed his glance and could see two men with rifles trained on her and Michael, as well as two lycans in their werewolf forms.

"It would seem that I have the upper hand," Jerry told her. "Now, if you'd be so kind as to drop the weapon and keep your hands where I can see them…"

"No," Selene informed him. "You may have the upper hand, but we will not be taken hostage. If you choose to make this a violent encounter, that is up to you. We seek information about Tanis and we have information to give you. We can either talk here, or meet at a neutral location."

"You realize that we can't let you leave here," Jerry told her. "You'll tell the coven in New Orleans that you met up with lycans and they'll have a Death Dealer team up here to eliminate us."

"I understand your concern," Selene told him. "That is why I'm prepared to meet you half way. You can search Michael and myself for any and all communication devices. You can also take our vehicle and search the belongings we left at the motel. However, I will not submit to capture."

Jerry seemed to consider this for a few minutes.

"Okay," he said, at last. "I'll search the two of you. If you try anything, my kin will kill you, probably after you kill me. Everyone will suffer a loss, so I hope you don't try anything. After I search you, one of my kin will rent another room at the motel. We'll meet there, after we search your vehicle and your belongings."

"I find this acceptable," Selene agreed, holstering her weapon.

* * *

One of the reasons that the vampires' mobile rig was crowded was that almost a third of the trailer's space was dedicated to carrying a car. Still, Gary and his companions were happy to have it at this time. Taking the rig on the back roads would have been awkward and obvious. While rigs running these routes weren't uncommon, they were usually either cattle-cars or hopper-bottoms. Standard cargo carriers, like the rig had been built to mimic, would have gained unwanted attention.

Gary hadn't spent over a century and a half as the New World Coven's chief Death Dealer by drawing unwanted attention.

He climbed out of the front, passenger's door, slightly ahead of his three companions, and surveyed the ranch house. Mr. Lecoq had fully briefed him; Gary was aware that Selene and Michael had visited this house. That meant that there was something…special…about this simple looking building. In Gary's mind, special and treacherous meant the same thing.

Gary didn't look back as he strode towards the door, fighting down his urge to draw his pistol. Selene might have been on the wrong track and anybody in this house just might be a simple rancher. He had no intention of drawing unnecessary attention by inadvertently intimidating an innocent family. One of his men accompanied him while two remained with the car, in an effort to look as inoffensive as possible. While Gary had reconciled himself to eventually dying a violent death, he didn't want it to come at the hands of a double-barreled shotgun, wielded by a panicked rancher.

His companion nodded to him, and the two walked to the house and knocked on the door. It took several minutes for the door to open.

"What can I do for you folks?" The rancher asked. Was it Gary's imagination, or did he seem a little nervous?

"We were wondering if you've seen this woman," Gary answered, handing him a picture of Selene. "My…employer is very concerned about her."

"Can't say I've seen her," the rancher answered. Gary didn't have to share a look with his companion to confirm the lie he heard. "Why is this employer of yours so interested that he's sent you folks out here, after dark?"

"Let's just say that she left him under suspicious circumstances," Gary replied, with a smirk. He reached out to retrieve the picture and when the rancher handed it to him, stabbed the man's hand with the silver needle he had palmed.

The rancher shrieked in agony and staggered back. Gary wouldn't let him go; he grabbed the injured hand and peeled up the man's shirtsleeve, revealing the telltale black marks of silver poisoning.

"Lycan!" He roared, reaching for his pistol. The rancher caught him by surprise by reversing Gary's hold on his wounded hand and forking the Death Dealer's eyes with his free hand.

Gary fell back, holding one hand over his eyes. He rolled out of the way, knowing that his two companions still at the car would need a clear shot. He did not see the lycan claw at the needle still in his hand. The man had just pulled it out, just started to change when the Death Dealer that had accompanied Gary to the door made his move. This main produced a hand-held crossbow and shot a barbed, silver dart into the lycans belly.

The rancher yelled again, as he was forced back into his human form. He lashed out with a kick at the crossbow-wielding vampire. The Death Dealer blocked the kick and allowed the force of the blow to push him out of the doorway, giving the vampires at the car a clear shot. Four bullets tore into the lycan, dropping him to the ground.

The Death Dealer dropped his crossbow and leapt on top of the lycan. One of the vampires from the car grabbed a set of cuffs and ran to assist him, while the third vampire rushed to help Gary.

"I'll be alright," Gary told him, pulling his hand from his eyes and blinking rapidly. He could already make out shapes. "Call the rest of the team," he ordered. "Have them bring the truck here. We have to go over this place with a fine toothed comb and question that bastard."

With his underling rushing to obey, Gary pulled out his cell phone. Mr. Lecoq would be interested to know that Selene had met with a lycan, who had lied to cover for her.

* * *

Back in town, things seemed to be a great deal calmer. Selene and Michael sat at a table with Jerry, the lycans' leader, while three other lycans stayed close at hand. Jerry admitted to being a lycan but his claim of being a simple man, who didn't know much about the European power struggles seemed false. He was far too inquisitive, his questions far too focused, for him to be uneducated. In addition to this, he produced an electronic device and recorded the interview. After a few minutes, he handed the device to one of his companions, who promptly disappeared. Selene knew that this meant that whatever role Jerry played, there was someone up higher than he was.

"So what have you done with Tanis?" Selene asked, once Jerry was done with his questions.

"Ordinarily, I'd claim that I never saw him," Jerry told her. "But with your companion's nose, denial's pointless. I'm holding him and Erika at a secure location. That's all I'm willing to divulge at this time."

"I'm willing to bet that he claimed I made some sort of power play," Selene continued. "He made a few suggestions at the New World Coven, and that caused violence."

"That's another thing," Jerry told her. "This is where things are going to get tricky. You know that I can't let you leave here. You've admitted to being operatives of this coven. If I let you go, you'll report us and they'll send Death Dealers out here to eliminate us."

"Promising to not report is as much a mute point as your claiming no knowledge about Tanis, isn't it?" Selene asked.

"I'm afraid so. Let me say right now, that I appreciate you trying to be civil about all of this. We're probably going to disagree, but I'd like to avoid violence."

"Considering you have us outnumbered, so would I," Selene gave him a wry smile. "Now, let me be honest about something else. When you took that recording and sent it away, you told me that you're not leading this pack. You've got someone above you, don't you."

"I'll be honest and admit that. I'm not going to say where I stand in the pack, or how large the pack is, but you're right."

"Fair enough again," Selene nodded, amazed that she was actually having a peaceful, productive conversation with a lycan. "I really want to present my case to your leader. If the European immortal war is allowed to continue, humanity might find out we exist. I came here trying to find Tanis, to reform the Cleaners. Certainly, you can see a certain community of interest."

"Like you guessed, it isn't my choice to make," Jerry admitted. "I'll say this, my leader's a good deal smarter than me. I suspect that he'll take some action, but he's going to have to think about how much he can allow those outside the pack know about us."

"Can't you take us to your leader?" Michael asked, breaking the silence. After a moment he muttered, "did that sound as corny as I thought it did?"

"I get the idea," Jerry chuckled. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to take your vehicle. It isn't fair, but I can't take any chances with you. I'm arranging for food to be brought here, so you won't have to bother the local ranchers."

"I understand," Selene nodded. "I only ask you to take everything into account when you make your decision. I honestly no longer have a vendetta against your species."

* * *

Owen stretched out in the evening air, happy that he didn't change when the moon rose. According to Brian, he wouldn't be in danger of changing again, until the next full moon cycle. In the meantime he had tried, and utterly failed, to willfully change, under Herzl's tutorage.

"Don't sweat it," the Hungarian told him, in his thickly accented English. "It takes a lot of time."

"How long did it take before you could control the change?" Owen asked.

The immigrant stopped and thought about that. "I guess a year or so," he finally said. "I don't really know, since the pack kept me in a tunnel most of the time. Even after I could change when I wanted, my temper took control now and then. Up to the time I wound up here, if I got mad during a full moon, I'd change and not be able to change back."

"The training the pack is putting you through is helping you control the wolf?"

"Yep," Herzl nodded. "It may sound silly, but the hard work and training seems to be helping me. That's why I think you'll learn to control yourself faster than I did."

"What was it like back in Europe," Owen suddenly asked. "I hear what Brian tells me, but I wonder if I'm getting the real picture. Are the vampires, the bloods, really that dangerous?"

"I don't think you can understand how bad it is," Herzl answered. "The European packs don't have a place like this, where the young can come to grips with the wolf."

Owen, who was actually a few years older than Herzl, didn't take offense to being referred to as young. He realized that there was more to age than years and paid close attention as his friend continued:

"Because we don't have the chance to come to terms with what we are, we're stuck at the bottom. We can't hold good jobs, because it would make people suspicious. Most of us are either thieves or menial laborers."

"What about the fighting? Are the European bloods as rough as everyone says they are?"

"They're better fighters than we are," Herzl admitted, although even a couple of weeks ago he wouldn't have been able to admit this to himself. "They train their specialists, the Death Dealers, to hunt us down. Think of a soldier that has fifty years of experience, but is still young and in his prime. Now you realize what we're up against."

"What's worse is that we can't develop our own members. The bloods don't let us establish anything like this ranch, so our fighters are not very well trained. When blood and lycan fight in Europe, it's usually the bloods slaughtering us." The young man paused for a moment, "It was probably worse back in the middle ages."

"Why would it have been worse back then?"

"Back then, you fought with swords, axes, spears and arrows," Herzl explained. "Your strength affected what you could do. Today, a well-trained normal human, with an assault rifle, actually poses a threat to an immortal. Back then, a well-trained vampire, with a sword and a shield, could probably wipe out a company of normal humans or a full platoon of lycans. Since we can't grab things when we embrace the wolf, we're left with claws and fangs."

"What do you think of the training you're going through?" Owen asked.

"It's taught me how the bloods have managed to hand us our asses for years," Herzl replied. "Another thing happens to us when we embrace the wolf, we get more aggressive. Too much testosterone and not enough brain matter. I hope I'll get in on the more advanced training soon."

"Since I'm not even in on the beginner's training, I have to ask you what the advanced training is all about."

"The advanced training has to do with group tactics," Herzl explained. "I'm willing to bet that it includes weapons training, as well."

"Why don't they have you training with weapons right now?"

"I think the pack is keeping its secrets from those it doesn't trust, yet," Herzl grinned. "I've noticed that there are some areas in some of the buildings where us newcomers aren't allowed to go. I've noticed machinery noises coming out of these sections, and electric lines running in. I've also noticed that the older pack members slip off into a certain draw, at night, and you can hear them shooting in there. If you ask me, the pack modifies weapons so that lycans can use them in werewolf form."

"Is that really that big of a advantage?"

"Think about how strong you are when you embrace the wolf," Herzl chuckled. "You could almost carry a piece of light artillery as easily as a human carries an assault rifle. Trust me, this pack has taken advantage of its opportunities. If the bloods ever come here looking for trouble, they're going to find more than they expected."

* * *

"I've got some bad news."

Gary really didn't like being greeted with a statement like this, but he guessed that such a greeting was better than ignorance.

"What is it now?" he asked, almost wearily. Although his eyes had already healed up, a side effect had been a nasty headache.

"I checked the lycan's telephone system," the man told his leader. "And I found something interesting, take a look." He led Gary into the porch, where he opened a plain looking cabinet. An electrical device, and several buttons, was inside.

"What am I looking at?" Gary asked.

"That's an automatic dialer," he expert told him. "It's tied into his telephone lines. If you push one of these buttons, it will call a pre-programmed number and send a pre-recorded message. Want to bet that he pushed one of these buttons before he answered the door?"

"Who would he call?" Gary demanded.

"I've already called the coven. They're trying to hack into the phone company's records and tell us the number. This thing is password protected, and it might erase its memory if I try to read it." The man paused. "You realize the significance of multiple buttons, don't you?"

"I haven't had a chance to think it through."

"One button could mean a blood has just shown up," the man pointed out. "The second button could mean multiple bloods. The third might mean the bald sheep are onto him. Of course, these are only my suggestions."

"Which make sense if this is some kind of front house for a larger organization," Gary concluded. He handed the man a piece of paper. "Contact the coven and give him this. This is the VIN from a car we found in one of the buildings. I think the coven will find that it matches the one from a car stolen not too far from where Tanis ditched his last vehicle."

"So what does it all mean?" The man asked. "Where's Tanis and what is he up to?"

"I don't know," Gary admitted. "But the lycan does. Have the drivers move the mobile rig into the barn, then get the car inside one of the buildings, as well. Set up the remote cameras so that we can watch the farmyard from inside. I think we'll be spending the day here, so let's get out of sight."

The technical expert nodded and ran off to his chores. Gary took a deep breath and got himself ready for what was about to take place. The coven needed answers and the lycan had them. He wasn't about to stop at anything to make the lycan talk.

* * *

A knock sounded at the motel room door and one of the lycans looked out of the window before answering. Selene didn't need her centuries of experience to know that he was shocked by whomever was at the door. Still, he opened the door quickly and lowered his head in a show of respect. Although the man who stepped inside was rather plain looking, he practically radiated an aura of authority.

"So, this is the famous Selene," the man said, walking into the room. "Strange, I thought you were supposed to stand at least a dozen feet tall and wear a necklace of lycan skulls."

"Elder!" Jerry gasped, before he could control himself. "Why are you here? We can't risk you in the same room as…"

"As a famous lycan killer?" John finished for his follower. "There comes a time when you have to take a risk." He turned to Selene and continued, "now Jerry here's a good man but he takes his responsibilities a little to seriously at times. I know you by reputation, but this is the first time I've had the pleasure of meeting you. My names John."

Selene shook the proffered hand and introduced both her and Michael. Although John carried himself with every bit the same dignity and authority that Victor used to, he projected an almost fatherly air. Soon, Selene found herself telling him everything, even though she was repeating many of the same things that she had told Jerry.

"I'll tell you that we have Tanis," he told her and Michael. "But I won't tell you where I'm holding him."

"Do you have Erika as well?" Selene asked.

"Yeah," the elder's expression darkened for a moment. "We have her, as well. Both of them are…well…at least for now. However, what's more important is that the two of you have somewhat different stories to tell me. Tanis seems to think that you're making a power play, while you say that you're trying to reestablish the Cleaners. Now, how do I know which of you, if either of you, is telling me the truth?"

"We have no proof," Selene admitted. "In fact, we didn't expect to run into a lycan pack. We only sought Tanis."

"There's something strange about that," John told her. "The fact that you're not trying to state your case and the fact that you, a confirmed Death Dealer didn't just storm in with guns blazing, leads me to believe you." He was interrupted by Jerry's cell phone ringing. The lycan stepped into the room's bathroom, to speak.

"So, tell me why Tanis is so vital to your plans," John continued, only to be interrupted by Jerry bursting out of the bathroom.

"It's a trap!" The angry lycan roared, drawing a large knife. "A bunch of bloods hit the front ranch! George sent the signal and we haven't been able to reach him since! These two led the bloods right to us!" He lunged at Selene.

All of the immortals in the small room burst into action. Selene dodged one way while swatting the knife the other way. It cost her a deep cut across her palm, but it was better than taking a stab to the throat. John also leapt at the Death Dealer, only to be intercepted my Michael, who had assumed his hybrid form the moment Jerry burst into the room. The other two lycans in the room started changing into their werewolf forms, not wanting to risk gunfire in the small room.

"Hold on, everyone!" John yelled, quickly dodging Michael's attack and catching the hybrid in a chokehold. "Stop, everyone!" Unfortunately, nobody in the room was listening.

Jerry stabbed at Selene again. The canny Death Dealer sidestepped the thrust, directed the knife past her again, and kicked at his lead ankle. The lycan stumbled forward…

And buried his knife in John's chest.

Jerry released his knife and stared in horror. Selene, her reflexes honed by centuries of violent confrontations, slapped her hand over the wound, pinching it shut around the knife. The lycan elder released Michael, who confronted the other two lycans, who were now in werewolf form but still dumbfounded. John paled, struggling to stay upright.

"Back off," Selene snapped at Jerry. "If you move the knife, he could die!"

"Isn't that what you want?" Jerry demanded.

"I'm not your enemy!" She roared back. "We have to help him."

"How!" Jerry demanded. "How can I trust you? How can we save him?"

"I can do both at once!" Selene declared. The elder was near collapse, with Selene supporting his weight as well has holding the wound shut. Selene used her fangs to tear a wound in her own arm.

"Now," she commanded Jerry. "Pull out the knife!"

"But…" Jerry protested.

"What does he have to lose?" She demanded. "Pull out the knife!"

Jerry did so, cutting her hand as he withdrew the knife. Blood poured out of John's chest wound, but Selene pressed her bleeding arm into his mouth.

"Take my strength," she urged him. "And my memories. It will save you and prove our intentions."

For several, endless minutes John struggled to remain awake, as the life he drew from Selene compensated for the life leaking out of his cut heart. Finally, John's wound closed and he stood on his own. Selene collapsed to the floor, her skin darkening.

"Dear God!" John gasped. "She gave up her life! A vampire can't survive a lycan bite!"

"No!" Michael gasped, dropping to his knees next to her, now in his human form. "She's becoming another hybrid, like me." Noticing the confused looks around him, he explained. "That's how Lucian planned on creating hybrids. The pure Corvinus bloodline can merge the two species. I have the…genetics…that allows me to do so. Lucian bit me, to introduce the lycan strain and he had Selene bite me, to introduce the vampire strain. I was dying from silver poisoning, and it saved my life."

"So she's a Corvinus?" John asked.

"No, she was a vampire," Michael explained. "Alexander Corvinus, the original immortal, gave her some of his own lifeblood, that gave her the Corvinus strain. When she gave you her blood, you passed the lycan strain to her."

While Michael was explaining this, Selene assumed a form very similar to Michael's hybrid form. After several minutes, she returned to her normal appearance and struggled to sit up. Michael supported her.

"How did you know you would become a hybrid?" John asked her. "And not die from the lycan bite?"

"I didn't," Selene answered, wearily. "But I'm sure your pack would have killed Michael and I, if you had died. It was worth the risk."

She paused for a moment before asking, "Elder, have we gained your trust?"

"Yes," John answered, sorting through his new thoughts. "We have a lot of work to do in Europe, but first I have to deal with the New World Coven. Before that, I have a kinsman to rescue, if possible. Will you assist me?"

"Yes, elder," Selene agreed.

"Very well," John looked at Jerry. "Assemble a team and get ready to move on the front ranch." He now looked at Selene and Michael. "I recently had to put down a hotheaded immigrant, who threatened my pack. He was an idiot, but he was right about one thing. It's time for this pack to stand up and take action."

* * *

A/N:

Thanks again to everyone who has been reading. The comments and private messages have been really supportive. Thanks again to Joe Stoppinghem, for his patient beta work.

Until my next update, best wishes;

daccu65


	14. Chapter 14: Meet the Pack

Chapter 14: Meet the Pack

Gary stepped out of the trailer and closed the door behind him. Thankfully, the trailer's lead lining blocked sound as well as sunlight, so he couldn't hear the sounds of agony, once the door went shut. The Death Dealer shuddered as he made his way to the barn's door and stepped outside. He didn't like torturing others, even lycans. He took great pride in his abilities as a Death Dealer. He was a capable tactician, a solid trainer, and a deadly fighter, all of which he had honed to enable him to kill his enemy quickly and efficiently. What was happening in the trailer, although necessary, seemed a perversion of the Death Dealer's honor and commitment.

Gary shared a nod with his technical expert, who was installing cameras on the outside of the barn. Four of his team were 'persuading' the stubborn lycan to divulge information, the last two vampires in his team were patrolling the surrounding ranchlands and the two, human drivers were now in the house. Satisfied that he had done everything possible to prepare for the coming daylight, he sat on a nearby chair and allowed troubling thoughts, about Selene, to creep into his mind.

When he had traveled to Hungary, to serve a fifty-year apprenticeship under the legendary Death Dealer, he had thought that he was a tough, capable scrapper. Selene had disabused him of that notion in a matter of hours, not by putting him in his place but by demonstrating what a truly capable Death Dealer was all about. She taught him marksmanship, hand-to-claw fighting, small unit tactics and, most vitally, loyalty to the team. She had then honed his skills with repeated clashes against the lycans. Although he couldn't match her level of competence, he had learned her lessons well. There was only one aspect where her training had utterly failed, her efforts to make him hate the lycans with an unreasoning passion.

Perhaps his more…sympathetic…attitude came from the manner in which he had become an immortal. Selene had willingly embraced immortality, in a quest to find revenge on the lycans who had killed her beloved family. Gary, on the other hand, had been poached by a couple of undisciplined vampires, in New Orleans. The regent (Amelia was in hibernation at the time) punished the poachers and took in the new vampire, an act that Gary still appreciated. Even though Gary grew to enjoy his undying existence, he never forgot that pure chance had made him a vampire, rather than a lycan.

He remembered discussing this with Selene, after he had spent thirty years under her tutelage. By this time, he had become accustomed to her cold, direct manner and she had become impressed with his honest efforts to learn her craft. She had asked him why he seemed reluctant to exterminate the lycans. After he explained his reasoning, she had given him a long, cold stare. She had then declared that this discussion was a waste of time, that the two of them were soldiers in a war and questioning the war accomplished nothing.

He sighed and returned to his feet. These thoughts indeed accomplished nothing. He was a vampire, the vampires were in a war of attrition with the lycans, and he had made a conscious decision to be a fighter, rather than an administrator. He hadn't started the war; he only wanted to end it. If torturing a single lycan meant that the war could be brought to a speedy conclusion, he would torture the lycan.

Still, he hoped that Michael had managed to open Selene's eyes a little bit. If nothing else, he hoped that he had given her something to actually enjoy. Gary had a great deal of professional respect for Selene, and honestly wished her happiness and fulfillment. A sudden burst of gunfire, from the east, interrupted his thoughts. His two, patrolling Death Dealers were currently to the east of his position, and the wind was out of the west!

"Patrol, report!" He snapped into his radio. He forced himself to wait ten seconds before repeating his demand. When his second call went unanswered, he called the truck, too make sure his radio was functioning. He received a prompt reply.

"Bring the drivers back to the rig and prepare to repel an assault," he ordered, keeping his voice calm. "I heard gunfire and the patrol is no longer responding."

* * *

Damn but it felt good to be actually doing something again! John drew in the night's air through his muzzle, smelling the bloods at the front ranch. His team was well drilled; he didn't need to speak to issue his orders. The first order of business was to eliminate the bloods' security element. Two teams, each consisting of two kinsmen, took care of that detail.

The lycans approached the ranch from downwind and concealed themselves in a belt of trees. They then waited for the bloods' patrol to approach. As the vampires drew closer, two kinsmen, in human form, each drew a bead on a vampire while two other kinsmen, in lycan form, each crept closer to his target. As soon as the first vampire spotted the approaching lycans, the riflemen cut loose. The sound of gunfire signaled the rest of the kinsman to launch the attack.

Hit by gunfire, the two vampires were unable to bring their weapons to bear on the oncoming werewolves. Both quickly fell to lycan claws and fangs while John lead three more kinsmen in a rush towards the barn. Two of the bloods were outside the barn and quickly opened up on the rushing werewolves. John and one of his companions continued to close while the other two dropped to the ground and returned fire. Here, the efforts of the lycans' gunsmith paid off.

The M-2 machine gun had been the US Army's primary heavy machine gun since the First World War, so it wasn't all that surprising that the pack had managed to obtain several of the weapons. However, what nobody outside the pack could have expected was that the kinsmen had modified several of these weapons so that they could use them while in werewolf form. The lycans' speed and strength made handling these crew-served weapons as easy as a soldier using an assault rifle. John and one of his companions continued to run, seeking cover closer to the barn, while the other two werewolves dropped and returned fire.

* * *

Gary didn't get more than a half-dozen strides back to the barn before he spotted four lycans rushing towards him, perhaps a hundred yards away and closing with lycan speed. He quickly pulled his Beretta M12 and cut loose, hoping to keep the beasts at bay until his team could deploy. His technical expert dropped to the ground and opened up, as well. Gary felt a moment of hope when two of the oncoming lycans dropped, but that hope vanished when those lycans started to shoot at him. He had never seen lycans shoot when in werewolf form, before this night!

The technical expert screamed, having taken a couple of hits. Gary ducked behind an antiquated piece of agricultural equipment and emptied his magazine at the oncoming lycans, trying to cover his wounded teammate. Rounds crashed through the rusted metal of the old piece of junk he hid behind. Whatever the lycans were shooting, they were heavy weapons! By now, the vampires inside the barn were in action, firing their own weapons from the doors and windows and forcing the lycans to take cover. Gary took his opportunity to rush into the barn, noting that his two human drivers were pinned in the house. The technical expert, away from any of the barn's doors, slithered into the vehicle garage that held the vampires' car.

* * *

John realized that his side held the advantage, at least temporarily. The light submachine guns the vampires were using had a very high rate of fire, but they weren't terribly accurate at this range. Furthermore, he and his kin had taken cover in a ditch. The vampires' bullets didn't penetrate the hard packed dirt but the lycans' rounds went through the wooden barn walls with no problem. The lycans alternated firing at the bloods' muzzle flashes and shifting their own positions. John fired another burst, ducked back into the ditch and slithered three feet to his right as vampire bullets kicked up dust around where he had just vacated. He gave a high pitched howl as he popped back up and fired another burst.

In response, the four lycans that had eliminated the vampire patrol sprang into action. They circled far around the right of John's fire-support team, keeping out of sight of the front of the barn. While their kin kept the bloods engaged in the furious firefight, they approached the side of the barn; where there were no windows or doors.

* * *

Gary dove through the door and into the barn, reflecting on the fact that the barn walls didn't provide any cover from the incoming fire, only concealment.

"Since when do the animals shoot when they're furry?" One of his men shrieked at him.

"Since now," Gary snapped back. "Fire up the rig, we're getting out of here."

"What about the drivers and our techie?" The man asked.

"We'll pick up the drivers when we go by the house," shouted back. "Our tech is in the garage, when he sees us move out, he'll take the car."

Gary rushed into the trailer and opened a secure locker. Inside were several magazines filled with the few silver nitrate rounds that the coven's weaponsmith had made, after Tanis had told them about the new ammunition. The head Death Dealer slapped one into his weapon before sparing a look at the captive lycan. The man was still in human form, impaled with silver and struggling to free himself. He looked at Gary with a mixture of hate and resignation.

"I really wish it didn't have to end this way," Gary told his mortal enemy, whom he didn't hate. With no further words, Gary put two rounds into the lycan's head, killing him instantly. Cursing under his breath, the Death Dealer scrambled out of the trailer as the tractor rumbled to life. His feet hit the ground just in time to see lycan bullets tear through a window frame and into one of his team. He quickly rushed to the fallen vampire, who was still alive. Knowing that he would quickly heal, Gary handed him one of the magazines and tossed the injured fighter on top of the trailer.

"Okay, here's how we're going to play this," Gary roared over the sounds of combat. "We're pulling out of here. Keep up the fire and jump onto the trailer when it comes out. Fire from the trailer, keep them pinned and we'll all get out of here!"

He quickly distributed the remaining clips and was jogging back to the rig, intending on riding shotgun, when the incoming fire stopped.

"What?" One of the vampires demanded. "Did they just leave…"

He was interrupted by a section of the barn's wall bursting inward in a mass of splinters and dust. Gary brought his weapon to bear on he chaos and cut loose. He had a split second image of large, furry bodies, and one of them collapsing under his fire, before the lycans scattered among his men. The battle degenerated to claws and fangs, as the vampires couldn't shoot without risking hitting each other.

"GO!" Gary roared at the vampire at the wheel. He caught a glimpse of a lycan leaping over his head and onto the trailer. A very short scream told him that his fighter on the trailer had been killed. Another lycan rushed by the stunned Death Dealer, smashing through the rig's windshield too rend the driver. Gary brought up his weapon again, barely realizing that he was the last remaining vampire, when a claw cut off his weapon-hand.

Gary knew he was dead, but he hadn't attained his rank by simply accepting his fate. He thrust his maimed arm forward, spraying his own blood into the lycan's eyes. The beast staggered back, wiping at its face. Gary stepped forward and drove his fist into the creature's torso, shattering ribs with every blow. He kept on punching, intent on doing as much damage as he could, until a clawed paw tore off half of his head.

* * *

John didn't waste time when his team overcame the bloods' resistance. He set his team to work, gathering bodies and cleaning up the battle area. The local deputy was a kinsman, so the investigation wouldn't be terribly thorough, but the pack still had to put up a workable façade. The sound of a powerful engine interrupted his work.

"Elder," one of the lycans shouted. "One of the bloods is escaping!"

"Leave him for the security team," John told him. "That's why they're out there."

A lycan, in werewolf form, herded two, terrified humans into the barn. John inhaled and realized that they were normals. He directed another kinsman to restrain the two but to keep them safe, for later questioning. Another of his kin whimpered from inside the bloods' trailer. John went inside, where George's body lay. The pack's front man had clearly been tortured, and two bullet wounds in his head told John how the bloods had killed him. A silvery liquid oozed out of one of George's wounds. John touched it, and felt a stinging sensation in his finger. The bloods were using some kind of liquid silver round, an item Tanis had failed to mention, but Selene had. He made a mental note to discuss this omission with the historian.

John left the trailer and looked around the barn, once again. The vampires had managed to kill one of the oncoming lycans when his kin had stormed the barn. All told, the lycans had suffered two deaths in return for two prisoners and five dead bloods. Unfortunately, that wasn't the end of it. The New World Coven now certainly knew that there was some sort of organized, lycan activity in this area. John took a deep breath and issued the orders that he had both dreamed of, and dreaded, issuing for centuries.

"Tell the P-3 that we activate plan Cayenne in 36 hours," he told the kinsman that acted as his assistant. "We're about to have our showdown with the bloods."

Heavy weapons' fire, from where he had placed his security element, punctuated his statement.

* * *

The technical expert felt a ray of hope when he slithered into the garage. He was well fed, so his wounds healed even as he crawled to the team's car. Gary was a sharp commander, and insisted on leaving the keys in the vehicle, so that anyone could make use of it if needed. He needed it right now. The wounded vampire climbed into the driver's seat as he heard the rig firing up in the barn. No doubt, Gary was about to try a fighting retreat, fleeing the area before regrouping. That was fine with the technical expert, he would escape in the car.

The gunfire reached a horrendous crescendo then…silence. The expert didn't know if this was good or bad, so he eased the car out of the garage to take a look around. The sight of several lycans running into the barn, without being greeted by gunfire, told him that things were bad. Not waiting any longer, he gunned the engine and fled down the long, dirt driveway.

He heard some excited yelps from the barn, but he had made a clean getaway! All he had to do was get onto the gravel road, follow it to the highway, then get clear of the area. He knew that there were coven safe houses in the general area, he had the locations recorded in his PDA. Even if he couldn't reach a safe house in time, he could come up with something but first, he had to escape. Lycans in this number, and firing weapons while in werewolf form, were things that Mr. Lecoq would need to know!

The vampire slowed the vehicle slightly as he approached the end of the driveway, needing to make a sharp turn onto the gravel road. He was caught completely by surprise when a werewolf, carrying a large machine gun, jumped out of the ditch and into the road in front of his car. The tech gunned the engine again but the lycan fired a long burst into the car before jumping straight into the air and allowing the vehicle to pass underneath him. The car missed the turn and plowed through a fence before stopping in an adjoining field.

The technical expert didn't waste time trying to restart the stalled vehicle, he knew that the lycan had pumped several rounds into the engine. There was no way that the car would run any distance, if at all. He scrambled out of the vehicle and fired a long burst at the lycan, forcing his adversary to dive for cover. The vampire had just turned to flee when an unseen gunman (gunlycan?) caught him with a burst. The vampire staggered but kept his feet moving. He had to escape! There was more than his life at stake!

He heard paws on the ground behind him, so he spun and fired another burst at his pursuer. He must have hit the lycan, as the beast bellowed with rage and pain. The vampire paused to take more careful aim, setting up his shot on the staggering creature's head and pulling the trigger…

Only to realize that he had emptied the magazine! He reached for his belt for a reload, only to realize that he must have taken off his weapon belt at the same time that he had dropped his tool belt, back at the barn when the firefight started. Whimpering, he turned and fled again. It didn't take long for him to realize that he couldn't outrun the lycan.

Taking a last, desperate chance, he grabbed his weapon by the muzzle and hurled it into the oncoming lycan's face. Surprised and hurt, the lycan fell to its back, blood pouring out of his smashed muzzle. The vampire took the pause he had earned to draw his silver knife and lunge towards his stunned foe. It was his turn to be surprised when the lycan threw a paw full of dirt into his eyes.

The lycan must have rolled away from the blinded vampire, as the knife simply dug into the ground. The vampire returned to a fighting stance, desperately wiping at his eyes. By the time he could see again, the lycan had also recovered from his injury and was stalking forward once more. For a few moments, the two combatants stared at each other. Then, the lycan struck with two lighting fast slashes.

The vampire deftly dodged both strikes before stabbing with his knife. The lycan avoided the knife by dropping to his back and lashing forward with a hind paw, slashing the vampire's knee. Before the technical expert could back off, the lycan tripped his good leg, dropping him to his back. Both combatants scrambled to their feet. This time, the vampire attacked first, lunging forward with his knife. The lycan skipped backwards, out of range and the technical expert played his trump card. He pressed a hidden switch on the knife's hilt, triggering a spring release. The silver blade flew off of the hilt, burying itself in the surprised lycan's belly. The werewolf reverted to human form and fell to the ground, squirming in agony.

The vampire turned and tried again to flee, only to be halted by a rifle barrel jabbed into his belly. The vampire looked up, somehow understanding that this man, this lycan, was the crippled lycan's partner. The two immortals shared a long look before the lycan pulled the trigger. The lycan kept firing, pumping lead into the vampire's belly and forcing him to stagger back until he emptied the magazine. With the weapon empty, he simply used the butt to crush the vampire's skull.

* * *

_A/N: _

_This particular story's almost done. One chapter left. I'd really like to thank everyone who has stuck with me this long. _

_Again, my thanks to Joe Stoppinghem for his beta services._

_Until my next update, best wishes:_

_daccu65_


	15. Chapter 15: Ending the Confrontation

Chapter 15: Ending the Confrontation

Selene stepped out of the Farrier Ranch guesthouse; both revitalized by her short sleep and drained by what had taken place. After John had sifted enough of her memories to confirm that she and Michael weren't spies, he left on a mission to liberate his kinsman at the lycans' front ranch. Another lycan had taken Selene and Michael to the second ranch, where the pack was holding Erika and Tanis.

This memory brought a faint smile to Selene's face. Tanis had been completely intimidated by the two hybrids. Selene and Michael were in no mood to use kid gloves with the vampire who had caused them so much trouble on this continent and the lycans weren't about to stop the pair from getting rough with the prisoners. Tanis had sung like the proverbial canary, revealing some details about the Cleaners that Selene had never expected. With Tanis now proving to be a proverbial well of information, the lycans had taken Selene and Michael to Farrier Ranch, their hidden seat of power.

Michael and Selene had no sooner gotten settled into a guesthouse than John returned. He and his team had been unsuccessful at rescuing their kinsman, but had successfully eliminated the vampires' strike team. The lycans had brought back their dead kin where, in a simple yet touching ceremony, they had burned the bodies. The pack's mournful howls had brought tears to the hardened, former Death Dealer's eyes. Having given blood to John and intimidated Tanis, she was at the brink of collapse by the end of the ceremony. She had only vague memories of Michael carrying her back to the guesthouse and putting her into bed.

She spotted her lover, with several of the pack, unloading heavy burdens from a truck in the pre-dawn dark. She quickly went to join him, discovering that the lycans were unloading the bodies of the vampires who had been killed in last night's skirmish. To her surprise, the lycans didn't mutilate their foes' remains, vow revenge, or even curse them. They simply arranged the bodies, with dignity, in an open field.

The assembled pack took turns saying a few words about the fallen. Again, Selene was surprised that the lycans didn't disparage their fallen foes. Instead, they spoke of the vampires' determination and skill, and their own sorrow that such a conflict had to take place. Selene spoke about Gary, her one-time apprentice. She spoke about how, so long ago, he had confided that he didn't hate the lycans. John and his followers nodded their approval, then bowed their heads as the sun rose, reducing the vampires' remains to an ash that the fresh, morning breeze scattered into the new day.

"I'll meet with my staff, and my guests, in a half-hour," John said, breaking up the gathering.

Selene was still slightly dazed, but mostly revived by the pack's beef blood, when she and Michael attended the meeting. This time, Selene had felt more comfortable, as this meeting proved to be a planning session. The pack was about to unleash a hammer-blow against their archrivals, the New World Coven.

Selene was looking forward to having a discussion with Mr. Lecoq, about sending a team of Death Dealers after her.

Selene was shocked to note that John didn't intend to obliterate the coven, only force it to acknowledge the community of interest. Selene was further shocked to note how well the lycans had made their plans. John only had to incorporate Selene, Michael, and the vampires' own mobile rig. This took less than an hour, and soon telephone calls and emails went out from Farrier Ranch, to points all across North America. In response, busses, vans, cars, and even a few private aircraft converged on southern Louisiana.

* * *

In Gonzales, Louisiana, an earthmoving contractor informed his employees that the company would be closed the next day, due to a family emergency. While the employees were sad to hear that their boss had experienced tragedy, the idea of a day off, with pay, appealed to them.

* * *

"So what can it all mean?" Mr. Lecoq asked his handful of advisors.

"To review what we know," Madame Carreras informed him. "Last night, Gary reported that he had discovered a lycan at the ranch Selene and Michael visited. Michael and Selene reported that the man denied having seen Tanis, but they failed to mention that the rancher was a lycan."

"Could they have failed to recognize him as such?" Another man asked.

"Impossible!" Lecoq snapped. The regent took a deep breath, then nodded an apology to the man who asked the question. "With Michael's lycan sense of smell, he would have known the man for what he was."

"Which means we know that Selene and Michael reported a falsehood," Madame Carreras continued. "Gary reported the other issues, such as the communications devices and the vehicle they found in the garage. We have since confirmed that this vehicle was stolen not far from where Tanis and Erika disposed of a vehicle they had stolen earlier."

"This suggests that Tanis was in the area, as well," Mr. Lecoq added.

"We have had no further communications from either our own team, or the Europeans, since," Madame Carreras concluded. "Our tracking devices indicate that the team's cell phones, Michael's and Selene's cell phones, and the Europeans' vehicle, have remained stationary."

"The tracking system on the mobile rig, however, has been moving," Lecoq took up the tale again. "Just after sundown, it began moving east, roughly backtracking the route it took to get to the ranch."

"So someone unknown is in control of this rig," Lecoq continued, fixing everyone in the room with a grim look.

"Could it be our own Death Dealers, with communications difficulties?" A voice piped up.

"I only wish it could be," Lecoq answered, shaking his head. "If our team had suddenly developed communications difficulties with seven cell phones and a computer uplink system, simultaneously, they would have simply stopped at the nearest telephone and called us. No, as much as we may wish to be optimistic, we have to grasp the fact that some force has neutralized our team and seized control of our vehicle. Now, what force could do so?"

"Perhaps a rogue band of vampires," one of the several immortals seated around the table suggested. "Surely there have been others, besides Tanis, who have been exiled. While our official histories might not record them, Tanis may have known about them."

"That would also explain why the rig is moving, but nothing else is moving," Lecoq nodded. "Such an asset would be priceless to a rogue band. Are there any other suggestions?"

"Perhaps a rogue band of lycans," another suggested. "We know that Tanis had contact with our nemeses, he admitted it himself. Perhaps he knew about a band of the creatures and sought sanctuary among them."

"It is possible, but I cannot believe that a band of lycans could eliminate our team before they could report an attack," Lecoq chided his advisor. "We have been on this continent since before this nation existed, we would have known about such an organized, capable band of lycans."

"Then how about humans," the highest ranking Death Dealer still at the mansion suggested. "We know that Tanis had contact with the Cleaners, a band of humans who knew that the immortal races exist. Perhaps he is in collusion with such humans to eradicate the immortals as a coherent force. We know that Mr. Marcus, or whomever it was that formed the Cleaners, drew upon former Special Forces soldiers. Such a group could defeat even a highly trained team of Death Dealers, by using overwhelming firepower."

"That is the most troubling, and realistic, theory I have heard," Lecoq grumbled. "If the normal humans know of our existence, what are we to do?"

"Perhaps we could ambush the rig," the Death Dealer suggested. "If we can overwhelm whomever has control of the truck, we may be able to glean some information before a major confrontation."

"This is a tempting suggestion, but I will make no such move unless the rig gets much closer to the mansion," Lecoq decided. "We are too short of Death Dealers, with the loss of the team and the group I sent to Europe. I am canceling all town visitation privileges, as well. We need to be alert and on guard."

The meeting broke up after a few more minutes devoted to routine business. As his advisor's filed out of the conference room, Mr. Lecoq made a subtle motion for Madame Carreras to remain. She lingered after the remainder left.

"Madame," he told her. "I need to be blunt. We could be facing this coven's last days. We truly do not know what is about to befall us."

Madame Carreras nodded her understanding.

"I refuse to see our species fall, even if our coven is no more," he continued, removing CD from his jacket. "On this CD, you will find a full ledger of coven resources, as well as the combined histories of the European and New World Covens. I will assign two of my last Death Dealers to accompany you. You will leave the coven, tonight, and go into hiding. I do not want to know where you are going. Should this coven fall, there will at least be some remnant of our race."

* * *

The last of the scattered pack arrived at the Earthmoving contractor's vehicle shed shortly after midnight. While the members spent some time renewing old acquaintances and greeting kin they hadn't seen for decades, or longer, the work went quickly. The pack had been preparing for this day for decades; updating the plan as technology changed and kinsmen had been shuffled into and out of the designated team. The assembled lycans quickly loaded a bulldozer onto a trailer and opened a hidden weapons cache. There hadn't been time to construct ultraviolet rounds, like Selene and Tanis had described, but John was still confident about the outcome.

The Eastern sky was just beginning to lighten when the kinsmen set off on Interstate 10, loaded in tour busses and following the trailer and bulldozer. John looked at the sky, smiling at the fact that it would be a very bright, sunny day when they reached New Orleans.

* * *

The on-duty Death Dealer's eyes nearly bugged out of his head when he answered the telephone. He knew that Mr. Lecoq did not like being disturbed during the day, but this was clearly one of the exceptions.

"What is it?" Lecoq's voice demanded over the intercom system.

"A call for you, sir," the Death Dealer answered. "I believe it won't wait."

"Who could be calling for me at this time of day?"

"Selene."

"Where is she located?" Lecoq gasped, scrambling out of bed.

"Just outside the mansion's gate."

* * *

"I'm not going to trade false pleasantries," Lecoq said into the telephone, after he had taken a few minutes to compose himself. "I assume that you know what actions I took, just as I assume you are about to make demands from me. Why don't you tell me your demands and we can try to reach some form of accommodation?"

"Our discussion will come later," Selene's voice came back over the phone. "There is another, with me, who has a greater grievance with you."

"I assume I'm speaking with Mr. Lecoq," a male voice declared over the phone. "And that you're the New World Coven's regent. Your Death Dealers raided my kinsman's ranch and killed him. Of course, I took action, and these actions cost me another kinsman and cost you all of your team."

Lecoq flinched at the loss of his highly trained fighters.

"Now, you probably did what you needed to do, as did I. I've also taken some further action. If you look on your perimeter cameras, you'll notice a couple of your busses outside. These busses happen to be full of eighty heavily armed and highly trained fighters. You'll also notice a bulldozer. One word from me, and the bulldozer will crash through your fence and right into your mansion. The fighters will be right behind it. I notice that it's a nice sunny day out today, so I don't think you want any holes in your walls."

"Perhaps we could talk about this," Lecoq suggested.

"Funny," John replied, with a smile in his voice. "I was about to suggest the same thing."

* * *

The end proved to be wonderfully non-dramatic, as far as Selene was concerned. John walked into the coven's mansion at the head of a squad of lycan soldiers, where he met with Mr. Lecoq. Somehow, the cultured, urbane Mr. Lecoq got along very well with the folksy, practical John. The first order of business was to call a truce. The vampire and lycan didn't so much resolve their hostilities as discover that they didn't have any hostilities to resolve.

With the tension reduced, the two leaders discussed the immortal war in Europe. This discussion was facilitated after dark that night, when the vampires' mobile rig, with Tanis aboard, showed up. Thoroughly cowed to find himself between three factions he hoped to play against each other, he provided information with no restraint. By the time Mr. Lecoq turned in for his day's rest, a basic plan was in place. This plan became finalized over the next two days.

Mr. Lecoq's duty was to travel to Europe, with Erika and a small party, to make contact with the vampires still living on that continent. His goal was to halt the infighting amongst the vampires, as well as the attacks against the lycans.

John's duty was to travel to the same continent and deal with the lycans. All parties hoped that his age and air of authority would be sufficient to reign in the justifiably paranoid packs, and forge an organization much like the one he had formed in North America.

Finally, Selene and Michael would travel to Europe with Tanis. Their goal was to reform the Cleaner Organization, as well as assist the lycan elder and the vampire regent. More and more odd stories were emerging from Eastern Europe, and soon credible authorities would start to take notice and dare to believe.

It was time to put an end to the immortal war.

It was time to start picking up the pieces.

* * *

_A/N: Yes, it was a short chapter and a bit of a cliffhanger, but please indulge an aging man his vices! I would really like to thank everyone who read and reviewed this, my first Underworld Fanfic. It was a fun ride. At the time I post this chapter, that big, cruel entity known as reality has been demanding more and more of my time. Once I get some things caught up in this strange world, I'll consider a sequel. Thanks again, everyone._

_As always, my fondest thanks go to Joe Stoppinghem, for his beta services. _

_Until we meet again, best wishes:_

_daccu65_


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